Space.
My father always complained about how spacious our garden was, he always said it wasn’t filled with enough plants.
“We need the land to look fruitful to see it’s beauty, even the orchards aren’t growing well” my father had complained. I was but a wee little child at the time, I only looked up and stared into his eyes curiously.
“Would you like to plant with me? Would you like to make this place look like a paradise?”
“A paradise?” I asked, not knowing what the word meant. My father nods and then he picks me up from the ground.
Feeling my feet leave the ground, a giggle leaves my lips and it makes him laugh as well. I touch his beard, just like I always do anytime he carries me in his arms.
“A paradise is a place that can only be defined but it’s beauty, it is a place where be
