The Caring Watering Can
by Namu Marupudi
The garden lay quiet under a hot white sun.
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About this story
The garden lies quiet under a hot white sun. It has not rained for a very long time, and the flowers have drooped, tired and thirsty and waiting. Beside the fence sits a small mint-green watering can named Rosie — named for the round sprinkler head on her spout, which gardeners call a rose. Rosie is small. She holds only so much, and not a drop more. 'There is so much garden,' she thinks, 'and there is so little of me.' Then Ravi fills her to the very brim, and off they go: the marigolds lift their heads 'the way you sit up when somebody says your name,' the zinnias, the roses, the herbs all drink and rise. But with every pour Rosie grows lighter, until they reach the back of the garden and the bare patch — cracked brown earth where nothing has ever grown — and Rosie must decide whether to keep her last water for flowers that will certainly say thank you, or give everything to a place that promises nothing at all. 'And then she leaned forward anyway, and she poured.' A quiet, powerful story about generosity, smallness, and caring without a reward.
- Rose — the round sprinkler head at the end of a watering can's spout
- Brim — the very top edge of a full container
- Parched — very dry and thirsty, like the hard pale earth
- Drooped — hung down low, tired and thirsty like the flowers
- Tilted — leaned over, like Ravi tipping Rosie to pour
- Empty — holding nothing inside at all
- Fear — the feeling that something bad might happen
- Generous — happy to give what you have, even when it's the last of it
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