THE LAST COLLARD GREEN
Hello, my family name is Green and I am the last Collard in town.
Life was good in my rich patch of dirt at the corner of Rice and Roux. Every year I would defy the winter frost and blossom forth from spring into the fall. My leaves broke away from my sturdy spine in clean lines and the pot liquor I produced was always a soft pastel green, affirming my lack of bitterness. I felt unique, included and loved. After all, I was individually planted with a soft glove and closely cared for unlike my cousins who arrived chilled in paper bags festooned with big red letters.
I spent my growing days in the sun hanging out with my friends Turnip and Mustard. And even though we were different varieties, we were all Greens and lived together in familial harmony. All Greens were welcomed to share the soil and flourish along with us.
Then one day, Mustard suddenly disappeared. At first we thought the gophers had gotten to her. But there was no tale- tale hole where she had been, just the smooth dry ground. Turnip and I talked about it and soon realized that we had not been watered in several weeks and were slowly losing our ability to stand. Tiny flowers were beginning to bloom on our leaves, a sure sign we were heading back to seed.
Then the unthinkable happened. Turnip disappeared and I was suddenly alone.
And then I saw them. New sprouts beginning to emerge. I was only able to stay alive from the trickles of water allowed by their stingy runoff. As I slowly wilted, I watched them grow tall and strong. Soon they covered the entire garden.
