She was walking home from work one evening when she got the idea. Rosa didn't like her job at the factory, but it was better than no job at all. So, while she was trying not to think about work, she saw the pots in an alley. They were cheap plastic pots, but there were dozens of them piled up behind the flower shop. Such a waste, she thought. When the pots were still there three days later, Rosa went in and asked if she could take some. The flower shop lady said she didn't mind, so Rosa carried home a tower of pots, pretending she was a circus performer on the way.

    At home, Rosa set them on the fire escape outside her tiny apartment. And there they sat. Once a gust of wind sent them slipping to the street three floors below, and she had to go to run after and catch them before the gathering storm.

    Every day, Rosa went to work and thought about her pots- She was wailing for something, but she had patience.

    At last, the newspaper brought good news. A hardware store had a sale on potting soil. Rosa carefully counted her money, then walked six blocks to the store. She bought six bags and carried them home. She bought seeds, too. Rosa slept well that night and dreamed of masses of flowers and fat, glowing fruits,

    Sundays were always good days. Rosa didn't have to work on Sundays. But Rosa couldn't remember when she had had such a good Sunday. She got up early and ate her breakfast on the fire escape with her pots. Then, she began to put dirt into the pots. She sang a little song until all six of her bags of soil were empty. Then, she laid her precious seed packets out and planned her garden. Tomatoes for the biggest pots, and peppers for the next-biggest ones. Flowers in all the rest.

    At the end of the day, Rosa sat in her garden and watched the sunset. Soon, she thought, there will be masses of flowers and fat, glowing fruits.