Off The Shelf

This plant was green once, full of life and hope.  Long tendrils of healthy leaves clung to well-watered vines, draping over shelves full of books in this home he and I built together.

When I watered it up on that shelf, I was always clumsy.   Often I spilled it on myself, or missed the pot entirely.  I never knew if I’d given it too much, or too little.

I admit, it was like that with a lot of things.

Eventually, I  decided it took more effort than I was willing to give, and I began to ignore it.

And now, I want to pretend I don’t know what happened to that plant.  Or maybe I’d feel better if I offered those excuses, as if they were good reasons.   But the truth is, I know what happened.  I stopped watering it, and took up ignoring it, because I stopped caring.

This plant isn’t the only thing I stopped nurturing.  My life is littered with the half-dead, uncared-for remains of what I used to believe meant the world to me.

But it’s spring now, and so many things have changed in the past few weeks.  Like the trees and flowers, the birds and all the other creatures, I can feel myself blossoming, coming alive finally, after a long, long winter I wasn’t sure I could survive.

All I thought I couldn’t live without, it turns out, I can.  And what my heart truly cared about is still here, although the neglect is quite visible.

So I decided this weekend that perhaps I could bring that plant back to life if I took it off the shelf and gave it some care.

And then I set about cleaning up and resurrecting my garden and my home, my friendships and my business, now that my long, long winter is over, because I’ve decided what my heart truly cares about has spent more than enough time on a shelf.

~ cj 2013.03.20

Another interesting thing to think about, which I didn’t really talk about here, is how willing I was to pay attention to it, once I moved it from that shelf.