The plant is mine. The plant is me.

It was only a couple of months back, that this little baby plant entered my house and found a space in my room. It was fresh, small, vibrant, and brought a new sense of energy to my room. I, on the other hand, was confused, helpless and kept questioning my ability to keep it alive. I signed a pact with the plant, I will provide the basics, and will hope that it communicates back to me what it needs. I hoped to sense it, to like it, and to see where it goes from there.

Thus, began our journey. The plant slowly started finding its way in my room and my heart. With the sprout of every new leaf, as I touched it, it touched me back. It wasn’t an easy journey to build a space where communication is not as direct, as we are tuned to. I made a few unintentional mistakes, but the plant was patient with me. It drooped and lost color, but it never gave up on me. It kept standing back strong, every time I watered it with love. Once we developed a level of understanding, everything was great. It began rewarding me too. With beautiful white flowers – that filled me and my home with unparalleled peace. The day I woke up to the first flower, I almost teared up. It was a culmination of an unspoken bond we’d formed for ourselves. We were set in our pattern, where I would meet and water it first thing in the morning, and it would continue to grow in abundance, regularly surprising me with its blooms. We were thriving, until we weren't. 

It was soon I realized that my little baby had grown up now, it was much bigger than I first got it. It had outgrown the little pot that was its home. I denied it for a while, it was too much of a change. Would it stop communicating with me? What if it wouldn’t feel the same? God forbid, what if it doesn’t survive the change? But as much as I denied it, my plant kept telling me that the change is inevitable, and you cannot flourish in a place you have outgrown.

As difficult it was for me, placing a stone on my aching heart, I decided to repot the plant, and found it a larger home. It was filled with adequate nutrients, that would be required for it to survive in a new environment. Things changed, it suddenly needed more water, more sunlight. There were days it didn’t feel like mine, but I loved it anyway. I waited till it spoke to me again, where we could rebirth the bond we created, albeit in newer circumstances.

My plant hasn’t flowered in a while, my eyes and my heart crave for the day it will. Maybe it is just finding itself, you know? Trying to survive the change, taking each day as it comes. Soaking in the water and the nutrients, trying to rise through every day. It might be difficult now, for it to sparkle and shine, but it has never given up, and I will never give up. We start by staying alive, don’t we?

I will be patient, I will be loving, I will be kind. I will wait till it finds me and speaks to me again. The plant will bloom, and so will I.