repeat
When we were away this summer, a neighbor stayed in our apartment, taking care of the cats and the plants. Maybe I’m repeating myself here…
When we were away this summer, a neighbor stayed in our apartment, taking care of the cats and the plants. Maybe I’m repeating myself here.
I would lie awake in the bedroom downstairs, thinking,
How are my plants? Are they still alive? Are they ok? How are the cats? Will they remember me?
Now I know I’m repeating myself. I can feel it. I’ve typed these questions before. I go on.
Then,
It’s ok, all my plants might be dead when I get back to New York. That’s ok. I’ll start over. I’ll find new plants and grow them. I’ll make mistakes and lose some and cry over it like I cry about everything — what? don’t you cry when your plants die too? No?! Well, I do.
I thought of one particular plant, a gift from a friend, a small begonia! — I always have trouble with begonias — and I thought for sure it’d be dead when we got back.
When we got back to Brooklyn, everything was alive and thriving. She had taken such good care of everything.
It’s not over!
This little post is a promise.
Take care of what’s in front of you today.
It’s not over.