Every year I plant peas.
Every year I tend to them, give them support, sunlight, water, love.
Every year I find myself standing, at the end of the summer, wondering where the fuck all my peas are.
Every year my daughter stands in front of me and tells me, in her most innocent voice, that she has no idea where all the peas went, and maybe I should plant more next year.
Every year I plant more peas than the year before.
Moral of the story – you can’t always see how much someone loves the things that you make or do for them. Sometimes you just have to take it on faith. And plant more peas.