A New Week

Christine Merser, August 4, 2025

This past weekend was difficult. Sometimes, as the weeks pile on and the headlines grow more atrocious, it’s hard to believe we’ll survive. Let alone rebuild. I sat in my garden more than once. After weeks of travel and visitors, a weekend alone with Bay slowed me down. I tried to smell the roses. But they’d lost their bloom.

Later, I went into my Instagram, searching for an old photo. And there it was. My garden, a few years ago, when I had just started cultivating it. My hands in the soil for the first time in my life. The early stages.

I saw pictures of friends and family, working through the last elections. Fighting the good fight for future generations.

I saw my little cottage, the first time I ever laid eyes on it. Before any work. Before it became mine. A home, finally.

I saw gatherings, food, joy. And joy again.

So I went out into the garden and hugged my tree, Chrissy. The one I saved from a bush that was strangling her, unnoticed. I leaned in close.

And in that moment, I remembered a quote I heard once.

The devil whispered in her ear, “You’re not strong enough to withstand the storm.”

And I whispered back, “Six feet back, motherfucker.”