InsaneJournal

gardens of hope (narrative)
The morning was warm, and it was the perfect time to get her gardening done. Of course during the day it would be much warmer, and much more uncomfortable for anyone but a God, which she was, but she preferred to look normal and mortal. So the morning it was. Her garden was pristine in all of the right ways and wild in the good ways. Her flowers perfect, her plants almost ready to harvest. Soon Enlil would be out her toiling over her garden and harvesting the plants for her. He might not ave enjoyed it like she did but he enjoyed pleasing his wife.

And Ninlil enjoyed that.

Her husband was everything to her that her children were not. Which was saying, well, a lot to her. She loved her children but her husband was the reason for them. She was the reason he was a father. They were the reason their love was what it was. And she missed them. She'd see them soon. But today was her garden and her husband.

Ninlil wondered what Nergal thought of gardening. Could she convince her baby to garden with her?

Maybe if she offered some cookies.

She would bake him cookies. And hope. Hope cookies.