Wednesday, February 5, 2014

20in14: Houseplant

This entry is a part of the 20in14 series. (Join me.)
#10. Your houseplant is dying. Convince it to live.

Hey, listen.

I'm trying to look at things from your perspective. Perched on your little table, staring out the same window day after day. Or worse, looking out over the bedroom you reside in.

You don't think I've noticed the bits of brown at the end of your leaves? I have, indeed. Why do you think you vacationed in the bathroom for a week? I thought the humid air and direct sun would do you good.

I need you to pull it together little houseplant. At first glance, I can see why you want to give up.

Outside you're looking at a winter that only a snowman in a snow globe can relate to. It has been snowing and snowing. An unrelenting swirl of flakes. I can only imagine your thoughts: will I ever feel warmth on my leaves again? 

Occasionally you glance the neighbor and his dog, Buffy. How lucky she is to be jumping about in the snow! Oh to have legs, to be able to go out and see the world!

Inside you're constantly staring at a pile of laundry that surely will fold itself one day. You're looking at an un-made bed, thinking if I had arms I would at the very least make my bed every day.

But, is it really so bad that you want to give up on us little houseplant?

I envy you, I do. It's a simple life you lead, but it's peaceful, with little stress and a lot of quiet time alone with your thoughts. You're an observer. You're here to notice the things we can't, in the everyday rush of things. I urge you to recognize and appreciate all the little things you witness.

A little boy blinking in the darkness. Rubbing his eyes and hoisting himself onto the bed. Snuggling up between his mother and father. How can an aggravated sigh from the mother still be filled with such love?

The husband leaning over the wife in the time before the light shines through the windows, for his goodbye kiss. Why does he do this every day?

A mother leaning over a baby, to feed him. Oh to be looked at like that. A contented stare filled with such love.

Occasionally you get to glance a few lines of a good book, or catch a whiff of the cabernet sitting next to you in the elegant glass. You've seen laughter and tears, whispers and sideways grins.

You've seen the squirrels' games, heard the birds' songs. You've seen the many magnificent colors of the sky.

I urge you little houseplant: dig your roots in and take a deep breath. You could stay in the same spot forever, and still not figure out all of the wonders around you. You'll still have unanswered questions. There are mysteries and secrets. There is love and happiness. In all things. You must just take a moment to appreciate it all.

Stay with us, and watch our lives unfold under your steady gaze. Live, little houseplant. Live.

The unexamined life is not worth living. -Socrates

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