Honey
I did something this morning that from the outside seems like no big deal, but from the inside it hurt like hell.
Before I moved to Denver, I threw away or gave away all of my plants, except for a peace lily named Honey. Honey rode across the state of Kansas in the backseat of my car to take her place in my new living room. For several months, Honey thrived, but then one day, I noticed she had started to wilt a bit and some of her gorgeous green leaves were turning brown. I trimmed off the dead leaves and waited. She bloomed for about a month and then started to wilt again. I repotted her and put her on the balcony for some sun. Still no improvement, in fact, her condition got worse. I trimmed her back as much as I could and managed to save two new sprouts, but the new sprouts never took off. Yesterday I finally admitted that Honey wasn't coming back. And I cried.
Crying over a plant may seem extreme, and let's face it, it really is a bit wacko, but Honey was no regular plant. She was the last plant from Teddy's funeral six years ago this week. As I took her to the dumpster, I whispered a quiet good-bye and let her go.
Before I moved to Denver, I threw away or gave away all of my plants, except for a peace lily named Honey. Honey rode across the state of Kansas in the backseat of my car to take her place in my new living room. For several months, Honey thrived, but then one day, I noticed she had started to wilt a bit and some of her gorgeous green leaves were turning brown. I trimmed off the dead leaves and waited. She bloomed for about a month and then started to wilt again. I repotted her and put her on the balcony for some sun. Still no improvement, in fact, her condition got worse. I trimmed her back as much as I could and managed to save two new sprouts, but the new sprouts never took off. Yesterday I finally admitted that Honey wasn't coming back. And I cried.
Crying over a plant may seem extreme, and let's face it, it really is a bit wacko, but Honey was no regular plant. She was the last plant from Teddy's funeral six years ago this week. As I took her to the dumpster, I whispered a quiet good-bye and let her go.
posted by kcterrilynn at 8:15 AM
4 Comments:
alot of people consider plants as an extended member of the family, kind of like a pet.
there is no shame in crying at all.
i wish is could give you a big spackler hug right now (and a tap on the butt!)
I might be a bit sad if I had to toss Phil (he's my philodendron); cause, you know, Phil and I have been through a lot together.
Spacks: I'd love a Spackler hug!
Tim: I hear ya, my philodendron is named Sanford and he's been around for close to 10 years. What upset me the most about Honey was just that it felt like I was losing a last link to my dad, since she came from his funeral.
aww sweetie -- I experienced the same thing with a plant from my father's death several years ago. We all do what we need to do to get through those tough moments in life. No harm in taking care of you.
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