On Figuratively Gardening a Patch of Anxiety

I spent the day in the city, letting the blustery winds send my hair flying and plunging my hands deep into my pockets to avoid the cold. But no matter how hard I tried to focus on shopping, the anxiety wouldn’t slip away. It grew through my chest like creeping ivy, starting from my sternum and stretching all the way down to my elbows. Twisting itself as it went, it would pause to wind its way back up to its source before journeying back down again with increasing speed. But like a determined gardener with dirt stained hands and knees, I clipped away and dug my feet in as I pried its suctioning roots away.