Where is familiarity?

Two small boys, buddies in class are sent out to ask me a question as i set out plants in their new Rainforest garden. ‘Miss, can we grow these seeds?’
I ask what they are from. It was fruit, the seeds were in the middle. They know only the Syrian name for the fruit. In my mind are the scenes of carnage playing out in their country, amongst their school friends, families, neighbors. How many of those fruit trees are still standing?
They are here, safe, but nothing is the same. Nature has the same language all over the world though. With a seed we can grow something if we nurture it enough. We plant hope, water it with love, protect it with determination and harvest joy. What human wouldn’t thrive given these things?

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