12 years feels both like a long time and like no time at all. Take a minute and think about where you were 12 years ago. Not where you were the moment you found out we lost the Queen, but just in general- what was your life like 12 years ago? For me, I lived with a friend in Athens, GA, I was in my second year teaching, I hadn't met Nick yet, and I drove a Nissan Maxima. Most striking to me is that 12 years ago I didn’t drink coffee. Today, the thought of starting my day without coffee and a splash of cream is appalling. Sometimes, it’s hard to grapple with all that’s happened in 12 years and all the memories fade together. The big things stick out for me, like moves, a marriage, and a baby, but it’s the little things that become harder and harder to remember. While many, many things have changed in all of our lives in 12 years, some things have remained unchanged. That’s why today I’m going to tell you about one thing in my life that has somehow remained unchanged, yet also grown.
A plant.
Yes, you read that right. I’m here to tell you about a fucking indoor house plant. A plant that 12 years ago I would have never guessed would be alive today.
If you ever visited our house in Atlanta on Aberdeen, you may remember the sunroom off the kitchen. This room began as a dusty, pollen covered screened in porch until my parents enclosed it into a cheery yellow sunroom filled with windows that were cranked open a few months of the year, a big table (obviously, found at a yard sale), a green chair and ottoman (also found at a yard sale), and a window seat stretching all the way around the room. The window seat was filled with various indoor plants. These were the best pictures we (Nancy) could find of the sunroom with the plants on the window seat, but who doesn’t love a good picture of Sam proudly dressed as BatDog and our sweet neighbors- who are now in college (!).
These plants were so ingrained in the fabric of our house, that I’ve written about them multiple times over the years:
12 years ago, in 2011, I spoke about the plants at my mom’s memorial service as one of the Queen’s life lessons:
“You can never have too much stuff. Now, I’m not talking about those people who are Hoarders and have TV series devoted to them. I’m talking about surrounding yourself with pictures of loved ones, paintings you love, and things that make you smile. In my mom’s case, she surrounded herself with angels. Wooden angels crafted by my dad, metal angels hiding within indoor plants, and stained glass angels that glisten as sunlight shines through the window.”
6 years ago, in 2017, I wrote about our trek across the country from Boston to Seattle and dropping some of our things off in Seattle before we embarked on a 6-week travel adventure:
“We are thankful to have friends taking care of our car, friends storing our bags, and friends watching our indoor plant.”
When my dad moved to Charleston and we began the great purge in the Aberdeen house, the plants were one of those, “Ugh. What are we going to do with all of these?” items. We must have given away or gotten rid of most of the plants, I honestly don’t remember. I took one plant that was in a ceramic pot I knew would remind me of my mom. I figured when the plant died, which would likely be soon, I would at least have the pot as a keepsake.
In 2015, when we moved from Atlanta to Boston, my friend Kate drove most of the way with me before I dropped her off in NYC. On our drive, there were 2 precious cargo items- the plant and my mom’s/grandma’s wedding dress (soon to become mine and later on to become Nancy’s). These precious cargo items were treated like the royalty they were. They had their own spots in the back seat and they came inside during any overnight stops- including when my car was parked in NYC and Kate and I schlepped the plant and huge wedding dress box into her tiny apartment. I didn’t know how to take care of the plant, but I did at least know that leaving a living plant in a hot car was a bad choice.
In 2017, when we moved from Boston to Seattle, the plant was included in a select group of items that didn’t get packed onto the moving truck. So yet again, the plant began another long car journey- this time stopping for visits with family and friends, trips to national parks, campgrounds, and hotels across the country. Still receiving the same royal treatment and coming inside with us during overnight stops.
When we first arrived in Seattle, we lived in temporary housing for a while until we found an apartment. It was in this temporary housing that I thought the plant had seen its last days- it was covered in tiny bugs. Convinced I killed it, I was ready to throw in the towel and quite honestly proud that the plant lived as long as it did. Nick convinced me to at least try to save the plant. I took my first trip to a Fred Meyer that night to buy new potting soil and a spray to put on the plant to kill the bugs. The replanting worked and the plant survived. The plant not only survived, but really started to thrive in Seattle. Apparently the plant appreciates cloudy, overcast weather. The plant thrived so much that we took part of the original plant and put it in another pot because the ceramic pot from the Queen was becoming overcrowded.
Today, the 2 plants sit in a prominent spot in our living room where I see them multiple times a day. They seem to love the amount of light they get and are long past ready to be replanted into more containers as the Queen’s original ceramic pot is yet again too small for this happy plant. I can’t tell you the name of the plant (please inform me if you know!). I can’t tell you if it is healthy, although I'm making an assumption it is because it keeps growing. I literally don’t know anything about this plant except that it is pretty incredible that this plant was cared for by my mom and is still (miraculously) alive and thriving in Seattle 12 years later. And in full transparency, after being convinced I killed the plant years ago, Nick is now the primary caregiver for the plant. He waters the plant 1x/week, and the rest is just the plant being a kick ass low maintenance plant. Also, fun random little tidbit: If you look closely at the picture below, the angel has eyes and a smile. My mom couldn’t stand an angel without a face, so if she ever bought a faceless angel, she added on a face.
I know we’ve all grown and learned a whole hell of a lot in 12 years. Just like this plant, sometimes we feel like we’re barely surviving and sometimes we’re thriving. And if you’ve miraculously made it this far reading about a damn plant, you should also know that along with the plant, there’s some other growth happening over in this house in Seattle. And yes, aside from an ultrasound, this is currently the best picture we have of Anna’s future sibling arriving in early June.
