Expectations

Pressing down on Tara, she felt as if she were being smothered before her day had even begun.  Clammy soil enclosed her allowing for minimal movement, as Tara struggled to become upright. Why was this so difficult? Her instincts assured Tara that all would be okay, and yet she questioned. Fully grounding herself and stretching down, Tara could sense vibrations far above her. “Are those others? Should I follow those movements”, she thought, making great efforts not to be smothered by the soggy depths.  If only she could get a feel from below, a grip on something familiar. Tara’s extremities ached as they extended both down straining and upward reaching for a breakthrough.  Yearning for space, her drive was innate and strong.  She needed no one to guide her on her course.  Compulsions which could not be stifled beckoned Tara to persevere. But she was so young, so fragile, and her task seemed impossible.  

Resting for but a moment, Tara knew few who had gone before her succeeded, while many, so many, had rotted in this same constricting earth before they even had a chance at life.  Life sounded lovely, fresh air,  sunshine, warmth instead of dampness. Yet she was alone, without aid, without encouragement. “Get it together, Tara”, she urged snapping out of her feeble self-pity. Tara longed to reach the life giving surface.  All that was essential was just above her. Though she had never seen the utopia she sought, her being prompted her to triumph. She was not a quitter.  Grappling for a foothold beneath her, she steadied herself to begin the tedious journey skyward. And although she carried no map, was given no guidance and help from no compass, the direction of her journey resonated in her without thought. Dank dirt attempted to pin her motionless, but her drive was far stronger.  She had been confined worse than this.  Her first memory was that being of a tortuously cramped space void of any light which would easily have been her grave had she not had the desire to live.  Despite the frigid temperatures, even then Tara had labored to free herself from her first prison. And now, her new cell  was simply a fortress of packed dirt.

Unexpectedly something brushed against her. “What was that!” Tara thought, panicking.  She wasn’t able to defend herself here and was utterly helpless without the ability to reach out quickly.  Any movement took taxing effort, and was slowed by the weighted force of the dirt and decay squeezing in on her.  Perhaps she imagined the graze; perhaps her thoughts were playing tricks on her in the dark.  

Yes, there it was again! Definite contact.  She was not imagining it. Something alive, and smooth had brushed by her once again.  If only Tara were able to see what enemy this was that taunted her.  Without time to plan, a scurry of many bristly feet dashed across her midsection a third time.  Thinking she actually heard the intruder this time, Tara strained for the surface.  Deep within her being Tara knew if only she could reach the top, she would find safety.  There, she would be secure, no harm would befall her.  There, she would be free to be all she was created to be.  

Giving herself a stimulating pep talk, Tara imagined what her life would be like when she broke the surface.  Like breaking the surface of the ocean after tearing free from a billowing undercurrent.  When all appears to be lost and hope is inconceivable, Tara told herself she had to prevail because her Eden was just ahead.  She could not abandon her trek. To forfeit the journey she had thus endured was not an option.  “Persist, Tara”, she recited to herself.  

The progress was tedious, but progress was being made. Was the soil looser here? Is it less compact here, easier to press through at this point? Is she being hopeful or is  reality playing tricks on her? Yes, the soil did feel more manageable, and drier.  Heavier dirt gave way to looser lighter dirt as Tara forged on.  Could she actually feel a warmth now?  It was definitely becoming warmer the higher she went.  But where did these stringy masses come from?  Thin strands stretched down all around Tara making it difficult not to become entangled.  Her ascent now slowed once again while she broke free from the strings’ hold that surrounded her the higher she climbed.  If not one obstacle, then another tested her determination. Yet giving up now, is not an option after having come so far.   

Light! Light penetrates, if ever so slightly, the gloomy world Tara tries to escape.  So incredibly close now.  Tara feels a tingle of excitement through her body knowing her treacherous journey is soon ending.  The charged anticipation gives her new strength. Reaching, straining, yearning for the surface above, Tara pleads with herself to proceed farther.  Bits of dirt fall easily now around her loosely.  She is able to move more freely here.  There is space between dirt clods, small tunnels waiting just for her assisting in her passage onward. Tara feels herself literally becoming taller. From the puny entity struggling just to be free of her cramped confinement at the beginning of her pilgrimage, to the maturer survivor she has transformed into fighting to exist spurs her on now. With one final resolution, Tara bursts from captivity.

Hunched over on bended knees, Horta’s back aches severely from the countless hours this sunny morning she has already spent ripping uninvited crabgrass and ragweed from her lawn’s borders.  Even with her shaded wide brimmed hat, sweat rolls down Horta’s forehead and into her itchy red eyes burning.  The pollen from her intruders isn’t dreadful enough, but her body seems to be an enemy as well, blurring her vision with filthy perspiration.  Dragging her knee pad to the next section of turf to prune, Horta groans in response to the lumbar pain.  Dirt caked garden gloves reach for their steel forked companion. Clutches meet tool, and extend for a newly spied victim. With labored satisfaction, Taraxcum is torn from her sweet victory.