Why Flowers Die

“Thank you.” I hugged Mari.

She smiled and transferred the potted plant into  my arms. “You are welcome.”

I held the flowers, smelled its sweet scent, and turned to leave the Bible Study. The smile vanished as I stepped outside into the dark night. S.M. saw the flowers, but waited to say something until we were inside the car with the doors closed.

He put the car in reverse. The sound of rubber crunching the gravel was the only sound for a full minute. When he moved the car forward, I spoke.

“That was sweet of Mari. Gave me flowers because I’ve been such a great friend.”

“Potted plant, I see. Do you think we can plant it?” S.M. looked both ways. Bright headlights nearly blinded us as a car passed in front of our car. He turned right and continued down the road, gaining speed.

“Or you could just take it to work and send it home with someone.”

S.M. looked at me before redirecting his eyes back to the road. “What?”

“I really don’t like house plants. They die.” In fact, I don’t like office plants either. A co-worker left on vacation for two weeks and her plants were minutes from never being resurrected again.

S.M. rolled his eyes as he made a left turn onto our road. “Nooo…we’ll plant them.”

Only if you water them, I thought. “Okay.”

After we parked the car and went into the house, S.M. put the plant outside. The next morning, I went to get a cup of tea. A small spider was parked next to the sacred mug. I hate spiders. I hate plants. 

I’m not ungrateful. I just don’t have time to take care of a plant indoors. Kind people don’t understand one other thing about plants…cats like to eat them.

Georgia licked her lips when she saw S.M. carrying around a potted plant. That’s why flowers die when around me.

Somehow, I can nurture a friendship, but potted house plants are impossible. I have no excuse.

I prefer private conversation. You are more than welcome to email me in lieu of a comment or contact me via social media.

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