back in january, i wrote about an orchid.
it took a long time for the buds to open, but they did. it's been in flower now for maybe three months or so. still looking healthy.
in december, when this was all new and fresh and horrific, one of my friends bought me a begonia, for reasons that are good - something to last. not cut flowers that would die. something that would live.
except, it didn't. she gave it to me and it failed and died within a few weeks. it filled us both with horror and fear. even D, who doesn't let that kind of thing get to him. we couldn't even keep a plant, a gift given by a friend with love, alive.
we bought another. that one died too, slowly, inch by inch. i hid it so D didn't realise.
then. a few months later, his grandparents moved house. and someone gave them a begonia as a moving in present. and they somehow didn't realise it wasn't plastic, and didn't water it. by the time we realised this one was almost dead too.
we took it home. they didn't really want it; they don't like having to take care of houseplants. by this time, i expected it to die. we were obviously no good at begonias. D wanted to put it straight in the bin.
i wanted to give it a chance. i couldn't bear to let it die without giving it that one final chance. i watered it. i took off the dead flowers, the dead leaves. it was down to one stem, a stem that looked like it was about to give up the ghost itself.
this is that begonia tonight:
it's not that i think that keeping a plant alive somehow means that maybe i can keep a child alive long enough to bring it home.
i wish it did.
but maybe just being able to keep a plant alive is enough.