I do NOT own Seedfolks by Paul Fleischman. I do not own the character Sam, either. Please review my first Fanfic!
BUUZZZT! BUZZT! My alarm clock screamed. I reached out to hit the snooze, and then I realized what day it was. It was the first day of summer, my first day out of grade school. And I would be starting college.
Most people jump at the idea of the rest of their lives ahead of then, being able to decide what they want to do, to make their own choice. But that was exactly what I didn't want to do.
I didn't know what I wanted to do, and I certainly didn't want to choose. I had considered going to law school, and then medical, but none of them seemed to fit, and I couldn't choose between them.
I looked outside the window and at the vacant lot below my street. What I saw amazed me. There, in the old lot that everyone dumped their trash in was a small garden.
It wasn't a big one, just a few people weeding and hoeing their plants. I looked down on them in amazement, and then I remembered something my mother had told me to do almost a year ago. She had told me to go and interview a large gathering of people to find out why they were there. I had just passed the idea aside, but now it seemed like a good summer project.
"What are you looking for?" I heard my annoying little sister, Jessica, ask me. "I'm looking for a booklet" I replied, "Do you know where one is?"
"Here" she said, handing me a booklet. "Thank you" I said, and then I grabbed a pen and ran out the door
"What are you doing?" she asked as I ran out the door. I stopped, then thought for a moment. "I'm interviewing people!" I shouted, then I ran out the door
Over the next few days I interviewed almost every single gardener, but those gardeners would tell their friends, and then they would tell their friends, so soon there were too many gardeners to interview. I figured I could submit an article to the daily news papper. I liked writtting, and they always have the option of letting people submit article to the paper.
A week later, my mom called up tp me from the kichten while I was in my room. "Honey, your name is the the paper!" She yelled. "Why?" I asked. I ran downstairs and grabed the newspaper. I was shocked at what I saw. There, on the front page as the days headline, was my article.
The Old Lot Promises Light in A Dark Time
The rest of the article was about some of the people gardening, why, and what the garden was doing for the comunitee.
I decided that maybe I should grow something too. So I went to the store to buy flowers, some marigolds, because my mum always said that my grandma grew back in England, before my mother moved here to live wth my dad's family. I never met her, but I think if she knew she would proud of my choice, knowing I would be taking after her.
Anyway, I went back to the garden and claimed a small bit of land, just enough for three marigold plants and some mint, because mint has a wonderful smell and makes good tea, to grow. Since I didn't know the first thing about gardening, I had to ask some of the few people fluent in English to tell me what I should do.
The little seeds became little sprouts, which became little buds. I was terrified when they started to die before they grew completely. Someone told me I was watering them too much, so I stopped. When the first marigold flower grew to full bloom, I plucked it out and put it in a pot by my family's window, the one that bordered the garden, so that people could see it.
Looking back, I remembered how almost 3 months ago the garden had just been and vacant lot full of garbage that smelled so much it made it unpleasant to open the windows in the summer, and now how it had become a fragrant and beautiful garden. If you had a picture of the garden then and the garden now, you wouldn't even know that they were in the same place, let alone that they were the same lot.
Toward the end of the summer, there was a barbeque party, and every one used the vegetables that they had grown and we had a feast. I grabbed my notebook and pen and interviewed some more people, because I wanted to try my luck at getting into the paper. I asked them how they think the lot had changed, and how many of us had changed with it.
One man, Sam I think was his name, asked if I really liked interviewing and writing about the comunitee. I didn't answer him, but I spent the rest of the day thinking about it.
The next week, I saw that they where offering jobs in the local paper. I applied and sent in my new article about the summer barbeque. When they gave me the job as a reporter of the Cleaveland Daily News, I was so happy I had to take a walk to get rid of all my energy.
I walked by the garden, now with less people in it because of harvest, and I realized without the garden, I would have never decided this was what I wanted to do.
I stoped for a moment, staring at the fading garden that had change many people's lives, said "Thank You", and walked foreward.