The Garden

She asked, “What will be ordinary for them in the future that is revolutionary for you today?”

You paused. Softened your gaze. Breathed deeply for some time.

Your heart responds:

“One day, a daughter will walk through this garden and feel your footsteps in the soil.

She will not know the long nights you survived,
or the quiet ways you stitched joy into justice—
but she will feel the sun a little warmer,
the air a little freer.

Because you were here.
Because you led.
Because you loved.

Let her find rest where you once wrestled.
Let her find water where you once wept.
Let her rise—rooted, radiant, unafraid—
because you said yes to the garden.
And you never stopped tending.

Welcome home. Your legacy is already blooming.”