Barefoot, I sat in the garden among the rows of planted basil and growing vegetables while the sun dried my wet bathing suit. On a cutting board, she used an old kitchen utensil to finely chop the basil up. The first time we cultivated our kitchen window garden, I watched in awe of his tenderness. I nurtured the basil, watering it, trimming old leaves as he had taught me. But each summer, when my kitchen basil plant flourishes, I feel myself growing too.