Gemotions

The community garden was a riot of colors and smells, but all I could focus on was my son, Daniel, showing off his prize-winning tomatoes. He was surrounded by admirers, all eager to hear his secrets.

Growing heirloom tomatoes had been a solace for me, a way to connect with the earth. Daniel had turned it into a science, a form of celebrity.

I used to be the one who knew the tricks, the one who coaxed the most bountiful harvest. Now, I felt like a spectator in my own passion. Daniel pointed to me. "My dad got me started," he said. I felt a flush creep up my neck.