plant life

My parents are coming to the United States next week. It hasn’t been too long since my mother was here, but my father hasn’t seen me since last year, when I told him about the decision to go through ECT. Planning trips, though it is just like ‘going home’ for them, is not necessarily an easy task. My mother has been having some minor health issues recently, and I could hear in her voice that she is a lot more worried that it’s enough of a problem that would make it unable for her to make this trip. I talked with her on the phone tonight after I came home from work, and she told me how she’s been recommended to eat very soft foods, like porridge. Being the American girl that I am, I tell her that she should try Smoothie King instead while she’s out here. “Oh, the blended fruits and getting to pick stuff like protein powder’s great!,” I suggest to her as I hold back tears.

I talked to her from the porch where I’ve been planting herbs for the last week or so. There’s a nice assortment growing in my planters now. One interesting surprise is my cat Simon’s love of chives in lieu of the perennial normal-cat favorite, catnip. In honor of his namesake, I planted him a “Scarborough Fair” garden. Both my parents have passed on this love of eating herbs and vegetables from your own garden, and now that I have a little patio, I try to practice their love.

There are empty pots out on the porch that are yet to be filled with anything. My mom and I have been planning for a while to browse Home Depot and other flower markets and then fill those containers while she’s here. I look at those vacant planters as I keep chatting about other mundane happenings in life. I try to speak in my normal tone while concealing that tears were beginning to stream down my cheeks.

I want to plant those flowers with my mother next week and watch those flowers grow and have our conversations later about how well they are doing. The empty pots will be waiting for her, as will I.


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