I should just give up and buy the fake ones. They do such a good job these days making them look real, substituting authenticity. But, I like the idea of having live plants, growing green things in my office. The organic exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide. Energy moving and flowing around me while I sit with stories of life gone wrong. I just wish I had the necessary green thumb to go with my grand plan of this ideal healing environment.

Mind you, one of my plants is thriving. The small one on the windowsill that is outgrowing its pot. I have carted that hardy thing around three different offices. Now that we have settled in for a while, I think it’s finally hitting its stride. It beams with delight towards the sun as if to say, “I am finally happy! Give me more of this stuff. It’s all good.” But his buddy next to him, well, not so much. I think he’s on his last leg. I really should just raise the white flag and replace the poor soul. Get him out of his misery. Let him move on to the grand nursery in the sky.

I promise, I treat all my plants the same. They get the same watering every Friday before I leave for the weekend. They both get the same harsh pruning as called for. They both get a talking to when I am in the mood and no one is looking. I even bought some of that blue fertilizer shit, thinking that would really make them perky. Nevertheless, same treatment, different response. One is growing while one is dying.

In reflecting on my office’s greenery, I could not help but also think of the human life that comes and goes in this exact room. Some folks settle in and absorb all the nutrients needed to grow and thrive. Some even get so big, a new pot becomes necessary. But others, scuffle along, half in and half out, not really sure that growth is something they want to do. They are unsure that flowering is even possible. And then there are those determined few that are committed to dying, Miracle Grow be damned. Same treatment, different response. Some I can cultivate and flourish while some, I sadly just cannot.

I’m liking this metaphor. Perhaps I should keep the dying plant around as a conversation starter, a concrete picture of our options. Nah. Sounds a little harsh. Instead, knowing me, I will choose love over fear, hope over death, green leaves over brown ones, life over lifelessness.

So, I will go plant shopping. I sure wish I could purchase a green thumb alongside, one that guaranteed success. But such mechanics do not exist. I am stuck being human, growing human beings, where some will thrive and some will not. I guess will have to make peace with my prospects.

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