Former. Like a lot of things. So many changes taking place render everything unrecognizable.
These days, I dedicate a little time to plants, and even less time to homeschooling, yet it is impossible to sit at this moment in my life and not need the plants to teach me something. Or just to tell me something.
A Tale of Two Aloe Vera Plants:
1.
He stopped, due to an afterthought. One of my most challenging, so of course favorite, students threw his backpack to my feet. "Mislazlo I brought you this Happy Teachers Day even though you're a sub you're a good teacher!" he proclaimed, proudly producing a small plant in an adorable turquoise rainboot planter.
I gasped, at first in appreciation, then concern. The plant, an aloe vera, was just what I had been wishing to add to my growing garden,* but it was severely battered by its ride in the neurodivergent nine year-old's backpack. I thanked and side-hugged the giver warmly, placed the plant on my desk, and made a silent vow to try my best to bring it back to life, while being at peace with its eventual passing.
Dedicated but detached.
*get it? growing? like I said before, bindweed.
Could I care for a plant known to cure and heal us? My life is currently a wild mix of learning curves, so I have had serious self-doubts. New neural pathways must develop in the aftermath of a big change. Transplanting to Texas is of course a major adjustment, albeit a lovely one. Here, and now, it is time to focus on what we know.
Comfort comes from the familiar use of tendrils I had already outstretched into the soil and air. From our first December days here, I self-soothed by plunking green onion and romaine stumps into soil, just to make their green cells continue dividing. It reassured me that maybe sometimes I could still make good things happen on purpose.
That raggedy aloe vera had to make it!
I mean, whatever it's cool. Maybe it won't, and that's is okay too, but....
I might have derived a little too much restoration of faith in my life, just from seeing a few green spears poke up through the soil like that. The whole plant could be beautiful, as it mirrors the resilience and determination necessary for life's bumpy backpack ride.
The End.
Lesson learned, right? Just hang in there, baby. Eventually you too can come back, looking grotesque but still here darnit. Dare to dream.
You know I thought about blogging about it back when it happened.
But, honestly I was kind of depressed by my interpretation of this particular metaphor. I just never really felt like writing about it.
Until....
to be continued
