Chapter 21 Making Space

Not just looking this time.

Adjusting.

The morning air still carried a bit of coolness as she stepped into the bed, coffee in hand.

The leaves had filled in quickly over the past couple weeks, layering over one another, stretching for their place. From a distance, it had looked full and healthy.

Up close, it told a different story.

Rebecca set her coffee down along the edge of the path and knelt into the soil. It was soft from the last watering, cool against her hands as she brushed it aside. She paused for a moment, just feeling it—something she’d done for years without thinking.

Sam crouched off to the side, watching her work.

“Everything looked fine the other day.”

Rebecca nodded, already easing her fingers around the base of a crowded clump. “It did.” She worked slowly, loosening the soil, letting the roots give a little before applying any pressure.

“Still does,” she added. “Just… too comfortable.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Too comfortable?”

Rebecca smiled slightly. “Yeah. When they get like this, they stop pushing. Start competing instead of growing.”

She gently separated part of the clump, not fully dividing it—just enough to open it up.

The roots shifted, settling into a new shape as she pulled the soil back around them.

Across the fence, Dave leaned on the top rail, watching like he had seen this a hundred times before.

“You fixing something?” he called out.

Rebecca didn’t look up. “Not fixing. Just making space.”

Dave nodded slowly. “That’s usually enough.”

Rebecca continued working, shifting another plant just slightly, angling it so it had room to spread instead of pressing into its neighbor. The leaves naturally fell into a better position, catching light instead of blocking each other.

She brushed her hands off on her jeans, then reached for the next one. “I used to pack everything in,” she said. “Thought fuller looked better.”

Sam took a sip of his coffee. “What changed?”

Rebecca shrugged lightly. “Lost a few good ones doing that.”

She paused, looking down at the bed in front of her.

“They didn’t die right away,” she continued. “They just… never really became what they could’ve been.”

Sam nodded, understanding more than he let on.

Rebecca pressed the soil back into place around the last plant, firm but not tight. The space between them wasn’t obvious unless you knew what you were looking for—but it was there. And it mattered.

Dave shifted his weight against the fence.

“Funny thing,” he said, “most people think growth comes from adding more.”

Rebecca leaned back on her heels for a second, looking over what she’d done.   “Sometimes it does,” she said. “But not always.” She stood, brushing the dirt from her hands, and picked up her coffee again.

The bed didn’t look dramatically different.

But it felt different.

Lighter. Balanced. Like everything had just been given permission to grow again.

Sam glanced over it, then back at her. “Hard to see the difference.”

Rebecca took a slow sip and smiled. “Give it time,” she said. “You will.”