It's a day off and I'm contemplative, a day off and I'm on my own in my own world and in my own thoughts. Not always a good place for me. I came across a poem today from a social media post. I look at the dates of your posts and try to recall what was going on in our lives. Pre-diagnosis, pre-Ch, post-diagnosis, and what month post-diagnosis, there were only eleven. This poem speaks to me today, you chose to use the word enigma. The second time I've heard it in less than a week's time.
I have one plant I saved from your funeral. The peace lily from my hula family. I remember Ch's Mom saying it's so easy to take care of and nearly impossible to kill this plant. She was right. I've kept it alive and it'll be six year I've had it. This plant means a great deal to me. For the first three years it didn't bloom, I barely remembered to water it. It would be completely wilted and that sight reminded me to water it, a few hours later it would be ok. For the first few years I kept the potted plant next to your chair in the living room, it was the original pot I received it in. Then you came into my life. You suggested I put it in the window so it would get sunlight. Duh, I have a degree in biology, you'd think I would have thought about that earlier. Then again my thumb has never been green; hence I asked a plant person which plant I should keep as a reminder of you. The orchid was definitely out of the question. I digress, you my dear entered the picture. My peace lily started to thrive, kinda like I did. I had neglected it and only watered it when it was not looking so great. You came in and suggested I put it in the sunlight, so I moved it to the window. I even started to turn it every once in a while so different parts of the plant would get direct sun, in taking care of that plant, making improvements my brain started to kick in. You came into my life, put me in the sun to start. Just a small suggestion. The next time we cut off the dead leaves. Your plant knowledge (you are a jack of all trades) lead to the suggestion to cut off all the dead leaves. The plant will continue to put it's resources to those dead leaves and the healthy leaves will get less nutrients. The peace lily was looking better, not necessarily thriving, but it wasn't wilting on a regular basis anymore. The next step was replanting it. We bought some fresh dirt, rich with nutrients, a bigger pot, and we did it together. A few months later it began to bloom. At one point there were four blooms at once. I was so proud, silly I know, but it put a real smile on my face, a smile that didn't hurt. Last year at this time it did ok, no winter blooms I can remember, no blooms in the spring or summer either, at least none that come to my mind. Maybe that's just how I remember the first 9 months of last year, my plant not thriving, not growing, not blooming.
The last stanza of the poem truly stands out to me in this day, in this time. It's winter and the peace lily blooms, one opened and the promise of a few more.
take care,
No comments:
Post a Comment