do the work.
The following Saturday, Kelsey arrived in brand-new gardening gloves.
“This is humiliating,” she said.
I handed her packet number one.
“Lavender.”
She asked where it went.
I pointed to Grandma’s map.
By lunchtime, Kelsey had mud on her shoes.
“How many did I plant?”
“Eight.”
“Eight?”
“Only 278 left.”
The next Saturday, she returned wearing old jeans.
That was the first sign something had changed.
PART 3
As the weeks passed, Kelsey slowly began to understand what the garden really was.
While planting flowers around an old
