It’s no secret I have a difficult time letting go of certain things. It’s usually the weird ones, like a worn pair of shoes. It’s the little things that escape my rational brain which I end up irrationally attached to.
I’m not a plant person. The only things I managed to keep alive over the past couple of years have been a bunch of cactuses. (Is that even the right plural of cactus?) Never mind the one who committed suicide when I was 18 but that’s a different story.
Mom has been dead for almost three years now. With her, her plants died in the living room because I didn’t care about them. In a way, I still don’t. And yet they’re still here. When I have friends over and they ask me, I tell them it’s a study in death and it’s kind of accurate.
At this point, they’re nothing more than dead plants. And yet, I haven’t found a way of letting go of them, as dumb as that may sound. I’m not sure what I’m expecting of them to become.
I guess a tiny part of me hopes that once I water them again, they will be alive again. It really isn’t that simple though, is it? But the mind isn’t always a rational place and this proves it once again.
I’ll have these dead plants in my living room for a while longer until I’m ready to let go. Whenever that will be.