I have thought an unreasonable amount of time about my plants lately. It is not uncommon to find me staring out the window as I contemplate. Which ones should I try to keep? Who could watch them? Should I try to repot? Will they even survive the hot Tokyo summer when others are gone on holiday? And of course, are these plants really worth any bother at all?
I should be elbow-high in cardboard boxes rather than in dirt. But truth be told trying to decide what I do with plants is something I need to check off my list and I am still trying to figure out what to do.
Obviously I hold these in an open hand and if they are all dead when I return that is ok. They would die anyway if I had to chuck them out in the garbage when we walk out the door and get on the plane. I know I have to be careful who I ask to watch them. They have to be fine if they die and not feel bad or like they are letting me down. And my sweet husband would be very happy not to have to cart these heavy pots around and he can't quite understand the sentimentality these green leaves bring. So I am trying to be practical.
But I guess that is the point. Even little goodbyes to plants are still goodbyes. It is letting go of something I have nurtured and cared for, something I have enjoyed and something that has helped bring tranquility and stability to my crazy, upside down life. If I come back and they are here to greet me, like a thriving, blooming friend, then I will enjoy that blessing. And if they are dry and withered then that is ok too. It will be a fresh chance to grab my little spade and tend a new garden in the next stage that God gives me.
