As I washed this morning’s dishes, the green-apple scent of the soap hit my nostrils with springtime memory. I closed my eyes, and smiled.
I had just moved into Rittenhouse Square. I was not yet 22. My Bachelor’s degree–quite literally–sat upon my bookcase among the rows of Stephen Kings.
It was a weird time. Earlier that spring I’d accepted a teaching position for the upcoming school year, which came with a commitment letter stating that I would be placed at a high school, sometime later that summer. In the meantime, I served water ice and cones of custard a few blocks away. I’d work the evenings, close at 11, and walk home to watch two or three episodes of Six Feet Under as I guiltlessly devoured an end-of-shift soft pretzel.
On the last day of June, I got a call from the district. They wanted to know if I was interested in teaching summer school for the month of July. $38 and change per hour. Yes, please.
And the rest of that summer, and really, all of those Philly years–strung betweenH&M outfits, cursing in the classroom, broken relationships, and an inordinate amount of Dunkin’ Donuts Egg & Cheeses–there grew a strong and ruthless vine.
With every early morning, and every pair of broken down sneakers, I stepped more and more into myself. The tears, the misunderstandings, the drunken bafoonery. The bookstores. The Target runs. The laughter, the jargon, the parking tickets.
The insane commutes. The phone calls. The grad-school papers.
It was all me.
I was, and I am.
With each new set of hours, I open my eyes to an array of simple pleasures.
I will kiss my son hello. I will drink in yesterday’s coffee over a mountain of ice. I will delight in the robin perched upon the lamp-post.
I am here, just as I was there.
And little by little, there grows a SnapDragon.
. . .
SnapDragon is a writer, teacher, mother, and friend.
Oh! It is springtime here in Pennsylvania, friends.
I saw a cardinal flittering about the yard yesterday, and I thought my heart would burst with happiness.
And this morning? I gazed outside and despite the current state of our world, I saw a bounty of buds and blossoms. I felt . . . hope.
For there is wisdom among the vines.
So during these socially-distant, self-isolating-and-quarantining times, I thought I’d look to the wisdom of house plants.
Because what keeps them healthy and strong can also work wonders for the likes of us.
It’s simple, really.
. . .
Give ‘Em Water.
Ground-breaking, right? But without it we will shrivel up and ultimately cease to exist. Are you feeling a little less-than? A little gross? Pour yourself a glass of icy goodness and drink it right down. Feel your roots come back to life. Your body and mind will thank you.
Give ‘Em Sunlight.
We live in a townhouse, so abundant rays of sunshine are to be relished, as a rule. So you’d better believe our blinds are pulled, and our front door open. Bonus points for opening the windows for a little springtime breeze. Let that sunshine in, yo. It might just save your soul.
Give ‘Em Room.
Nobody likes to feel confined, whether in life or in skinny jeans. Keep a plant in a too-small container and it’s bound to give up. So allow yourself some wiggle room. You’re growing too, you know! Every single one of us needs time. Time to learn. Time to grieve. Time to embrace the journey.
May you bloom and grow, Dear Reader.
May you thrive.
. . .
SnapDragon an artist, homemaker, and advocate of second helpings.