For several years, since I have had kids, the concept of house plants in my care has been so overwhelming I flat out refused to have them in the house. A non-talking being needing care and tending on top of my staggering caring load was inconceivable. The few times that a straggler got through the front door, I was burdened by guilt as they slowly failed to thrive and die a parched, neglected death. As the roots dried out, I treated it , if at all, like another piece of clutter. Before I thought of watering it, I'd wonder, should I dust it?
Lately, I have started caring for plants again. My childcare duties have been alleviated , the kids can now dress themselves, have a solid concept of time and can feed themselves. There is now a little wedge in the pie chart for plants. My good friend brought me three charming characters a few weeks ago. I have learned somethings from taking care of them. They are alive. they are alive like me. And like me, they need water. Having plants in my life, especially healthy, low maintenance overachievers like these, is a healthy addition to my living space.They are model roommates. Instead of constantly feeling like I'm letting them down, they nudge me towards watering myself. "I miles well pour a glass a water for myself while I am watering you", I think. "How rich is this soil you are in?"
Their life reminds me about mine. They are constant reminders about what I need to stay alive and thrive. Drink water. Soak up sun. Be cared for. For a long time, I thought I shouldn't be trusted with plants. I didn't think I was the right person to care for them. I didn't realize that they are meant to care for me too.
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