My neighbor let her dog use my lawn as a toilet every morning for six months and never cleaned up once — Kertati I stayed polite until she made one comment I couldn’t forget, and by the next morning I’d taught her a lesson without raising my voice once.

Maybe it would have been uncomfortable.

But certainly less uncomfortable than six months of resentment.

I still feel satisfied with what I eventually did.

But I also know now that I waited too long.

There is a difference between deciding something genuinely isn’t worth addressing and avoiding it because you don’t want to pay the emotional cost of speaking up.

I had been calling it the first thing.

In reality, I was doing the second.

Marguerite’s comment at the meeting finally removed that excuse.

Her cruelty forced me to stop pretending I wasn’t bothered.

And strangely enough, that was useful.
Because I finally discovered that my voice had been there the entire time.

Even when that voice happened to take the form of six very carefully arranged reminders on decorative paving stones.

By spring, the garden looked better than ever.

Maybe that’s coincidence.

Maybe not.

I sometimes think gardens reflect the person tending them.

That year, I had finally stopped swallowing something that needed to be addressed.

My children had their lawn back.

I had my peace back.

And the hydrangeas were incredible.

All nine bushes bloomed.

Even the two I had propagated myself finally produced flowers.