the plant you gave me finally died
November 24, 2008
I watered it, and admired its red flowers – the things it had to offer to the world. I never reproached it that it was not nourishing, nor was it scented.
I watered it when it was dry – but it’s summer, you kind of expect even a plant to have some built in endurance for the ups and downs in warmth and cold.
It’s strange to give up on a living thing, to say it doesn’t matter anymore.
I wondered whether I should maybe keep watering the pot, maybe the roots were living and would resprout if I had enough hope. But I didn’t want to. The plant is dead for me. It’s not going in the compost, I don’t want to absorb its matter through eating the lettuces or spinach.
The shell of a pot and few stringy roots are leaving. If someone else fancies them then that’s their journey – theirs and the plant’s.
And in the space on my window sill I can put something that I actually always wanted: jasmine, or purple pansies, or tall chive flowers. Texture and colour and smell. Not show.