Grandpa Joe is sitting on the wooden fence at the back of the vegetable garden. He has his big hat on. He is looking at the ground.
Toto runs to him. Bruno runs too, then stops to sniff a beetle.
'Dad said you have something to show me,' Toto says.
Grandpa Joe stands up slowly. He is old, and standing up takes a moment. But once he is standing, he is very tall.
'Come here,' he says.
He walks to the very back corner of the vegetable garden. There is a small fence here — old, made of sticks and string. It makes a square. Inside the square, the ground is dark and soft.
Toto looks at it.
'What is this?'
'This is yours,' Grandpa Joe says.
Toto looks up at him. 'Mine?'
'Your patch. You can plant whatever you want in it.'
Toto steps inside the fence. She crouches down and touches the soil. It is cold and soft, and it sticks to her fingers. She smells it — deep, dark, a little sweet.
'Why is it so soft?' she asks.
'Because I worked it this week,' Grandpa Joe says. 'Soil needs to breathe. Like you and me. If it is hard and packed down, seeds cannot grow.'
'How do you make it breathe?'
'You dig it. Turn it over. Let the air in.'
Toto digs a small hole with her finger. Then another. Then a row of small holes.
'So now I can plant?'
'Not yet,' Grandpa Joe says. 'First, what do you want to grow?'
Toto stands up. She has mud on her knees and both hands. She thinks very hard.
'Something fast,' she says. 'I don't want to wait too long.'
Grandpa Joe laughs — a low, warm sound, like the barn door. 'Everything on a farm takes time. But radishes are fast. And sunflowers are happy.'
'I want both,' Toto says.
'Then we will find you both.'
He puts his big hand on the top of her head for a moment — just for a moment. Then he turns and walks back toward the house.
Toto stays. She looks at her patch.
It is small. It is muddy. It is hers.
She takes out her notebook and draws a square. Inside the square, she draws small circles — the holes she just made. Under the drawing, she writes one word: MINE.