What possessed me this morning is impossible to explain.
A necessary premise: I do not like gardening.
It is not one of those activities that relaxes me. I don’t get any particular satisfaction from tidying flower beds, trimming hedges, or pulling weeds. If I have to choose between a bike ride and a few hours in the garden, the choice is usually quite simple.
And yet, this morning, something happened.
I woke up as usual, early. The light was only just beginning to appear. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that today was green waste collection day. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps not.
Whatever the reason, at some point I found myself outside.
In the garden.
Pulling weeds.
I do not remember making a conscious decision. There was no inner debate. No “I really should do this.” I simply bent down and started.
Hands in the grass.
Damp earth.
Roots offering a gentle resistance before giving way.
Dirt slowly working its way beneath my fingernails.
The different textures of plants passing through my fingers.
Some came out easily. Others required a firmer pull. Occasionally a root longer than expected emerged from the soil like a small surprise.
I carried on.
I wasn’t trying to finish a job. I wasn’t even thinking about the job. There was only what was happening.
The garden.
My hands.
The weeds.
The cool morning air.
Nothing extraordinary.
And yet something felt different.
When the green waste bin was full, I wheeled it out to the roadside.
Then I went back inside.
Three minutes later I heard the truck.
I stepped outside and looked.
There it was.
Three minutes.
Not half an hour later. Not ten minutes earlier.
Three minutes.
I found myself smiling.
Not because anything remarkable had happened. Rationally, there was nothing to explain. The truck was following its scheduled route. I had simply chosen the right moment to do something I had been postponing for a long time.
And yet the feeling was different.
There was something mysterious about that perfect timing.
Like meeting someone you had just been thinking about.
Like looking up and seeing exactly what you didn’t know you were looking for.
Small things.
Nothing that can be proven.
Nothing that demands an explanation.
Just those moments when life seems to wink at you.
It was 6:40 in the morning.
My hands were dirty with soil.
The green waste bin was empty.
The truck was disappearing down the road.
And for a brief moment, everything seemed to be exactly where it belonged.
Not perfect.
Not special.
Just mysteriously, ordinarily, right.
Riccardo 