This is my reason to celebrate this week: the plant.
Let me explain.
Long before all of this wintery wonderland nonsense, I get out of my car, and an old lady standing in her front garden calls me over. She’s about ninety years old, and we often see her working in her yard, which is most likely the original site of the Garden of Eden. She smiles and asks me if I want one of her plants, and then she gestures to a row of several pots in front of her.
I think to myself, “Oh, dear lady. You have no idea who you’re dealing with!”
I am notorious for murdering innocent plants. I can’t tell you how many brittle corpses I’ve hacked apart and dumped over the years. There is likely a wanted poster of me hanging in every garden shop in all of Franconia.
My kids make jokes about it (at least they’ve survived to adolescence); and they’ll buy me helpful little gifts, like books called, “101 types of plant disease.”
I do not have a green thumb–though I TRULY wish I did. But somehow, the weeds overtake the garden, insects attack, limbs just inexplicably fall off a tree, I water too much or too little. Somehow, I am destined to kill things. I have resigned myself to this fate.
So, with this murderous history running through my mind, this lady innocently hands me my next victim, a pot of white cala lilies.
I carry it in two arms down the street, and I feel triumphant when it arrives at my apartment, still alive.
During the walk, I dare to dream.
I imagine putting the pot out on the balcony in the spring. And maybe, if I’m lucky, the flowers will bloom again. I think it’s the first time I could actually envision a future for a houseplant in my care, not counting shower mold.
So, here we are, mid-winter. The lilies are gone, but the plant is still living.
Yes, sometimes I forget to water it and the stalks slump over in defeat; but somehow, it keeps forgiving me–it keeps surviving.
I still hope it has a future here. Once I rid the balcony of pigeons, I can put it outside, and we can enjoy the warmer weather. Maybe we will have a chat over morning coffee as the sun rises. We can laugh together, as I swat away pigeons with an old broom.
Sometimes I worry the old lady might take the plant back into custody. Or maybe the plant would be happier with her? But maybe the cala can be the first on the balcony, championing the way for others that have a hardy will to survive.
We’ll see. For now, the cala lily is sunning itself in the window.
I hope she’s happy here.
Now where did I put the watering-can?