For a few months now, I’ve had this random fantasy building inside my head. It all started when my friend Sarah and I decided we were going to become expert gardeners…
We obviously went right to Home Depot, bought all the seeds we wanted, got some pots, purchased some soil, and planted away. We both planted some tomatoes, basil, a few other things, and it was my personal dream to grow mint. Why? So I could make mojitos, obviously. My head ran away from me as I thought about the summer: I’d be newly married, living just a short distance away from Sarah, we’d have our Saturday’s together on my balcony or her porch just lounging and drinking mojitos. And apparently this was all contingent upon the successful growth of my mint.
I tried. I tried I tried I tried. I did as every pinterest post on this herb told me to do. I covered it as directed, watered it as needed, gave it sun when the time came, and NOTHING. So a couple months later, I planted it again…the same.thing.happened. After multiple frustrations with this plant that (according to everyone else in the world) is just supposed to grow like crazy and cannot even be contained , I felt like a failure.
So one Friday night after work, I was headed to Sarah’s place and decided to go to a produce stand and pickup some gathered mint and limes (knowing the Melendez household is always stashed with good rum). Her husband, Javi, indulged us and made us our mojitos. And they were delicious. But for SOME reason (me – I am the reason), it wasn’t satisfying enough because it wasn’t my mint. It felt like I had cheated.
So last weekend after mass, I took Kevin to the farmer’s market and purchased a beautiful already grown pot of mint…
Immediately after my impulse buy, we went to the grocery store and picked up a bottle of rum, some tonic water, and limes. And shortly following that excursion, Sarah and I hung out…and we enjoyed our mojitos.