As an intro, a little background on this story:

My eldest daughter is a highly sensitive person. She is different. She has always had a difficult time in this world - sounds are too loud; crowds are too close; emotions are too intense.

It was especially hard for her when she was in the 4th grade because everyone was "clique-ing", and, because she is different, she was being "cliqued-out". She would come home from school in tears and I would sit and listen.

You see, now that I am in my "Late Youth" I have discovered the secret of how to be the Dad of daughters. As dad, you are not supposed to "fix" it - you are just supposed to listen.

So I sat, and listened, and my heart broke because I remembered what a hard time I had when I was in 4th grade because I was that same kid - I am still that same kid.

So, I wrote this story for me, and for her, and for everyone else who is a little different. Because it is good to be "different".

The Vegetable Lady
by
Mark Lewis

The Vegetable Lady lives down our street.
Her flowers and gardens are always so neat.
And the love of her plants is never discreet.
That’s why she’s the Vegetable Lady.

She’s tall and she’s pretty, with hair like a storm.
Her gardening clothes are all comfy and warm.
And the dirt on her knees is always the norm,
For the hard-working Vegetable Lady.

We see her each morning on our way to school,
Singing and weeding with her digging tool.
To be in the garden seems always the rule,
For the wonderful Vegetable Lady.

The proof of her skill ’s in the baskets she brings,
Filled with squash fit for emperors and cabbage for kings.
With carrots and turnips and peppers on strings.
What a treat from the Vegetable Lady.

One day it was cloudy. I was cranky and cold.
My sweater was droopy. My socks were too old.
Home from school past her garden on my bike I rolled.
And I looked at the Vegetable Lady.

Her eyes were all shiny, her cheeks like a rose -
Her hat on her head and her glasses on nose.
And I looked and she looked. I was pale I suppose.
“What’s wrong?” asked the Vegetable Lady.

I got off my bike and walked in through her gate
I plopped down beside her not feeling too great.
Like a ball loosing air, I began to deflate,
As I said to the Vegetable Lady.

“First I fell down … and all the kids laughed at me.
Then I messed up a test - Then a pop fly got past me.
This whole ding-dong day has been one big catastrophe…
I give up, Mrs. Vegetable Lady.”

Well, she sat down beside me right there in the beans.
Dried off my cheeks, wiped my tears on her jeans.
She hugged me and whispered, “Life’s tough so it seems.”
“Walk with me.” said the Vegetable Lady.

She showed me her cucumbers, showed me her peas,
Zucchini, Swiss chard, watercress and fruit trees.
“There’s something in common amongst all of these.
Can you tell?” asked the Vegetable Lady.

“Each of these things grows with sunlight and toil.
And to help them to grow and to sprout and uncoil,
A bit of manure ’s mixed into the soil.
Stinky stuff.” quoth the Vegetable Lady.

So when in your life you feel clouds in your face.
And you’re down in the dumps, feeling blue like this case.
And it feels like manure ’s all over the place.
Think of this.” said the Vegetable Lady.

“The thing to remember when you’re feeling low,
Is bad stuff ‘s going to happen - but it helps you to grow!
So learn from it - thank it - and soon you will know,
You’ll be better.” said the Vegetable Lady.

Well just then the clouds parted, and down through the trees,
Came a warm ray of sun on a warm-scented breeze.
I jumped up and I hugged her! (She was still on her knees.)
“Thanks a lot, Mrs. Vegetable Lady!”

The Vegetable Lady lives down our street
Her flowers and gardens are so neat
And we wink at each other each time that we meet.
She’s my friend. She’s the Vegetable Lady.