The plastic gave a satisfying crunch as my scissors tore through. This plant had already outgrown it’s cheap vessel. The roots crowded and pressed outwardly, desperately seeking for some room to grow.
As my fingers dug into the soil it couldn’t help but reminisce my childhood. Memories of the countless hours spent playing outside and in the dirt flooded my mind. I could picture the playgrounds where I’d shovel mounds of sand with grand hopes of reaching China before dark. I could feel the cool air of the city’s creeks, where forts were built and clods were launched over some fantasized territory dispute. I also felt the rush of the baseball diamond where a head first slide repeatedly left me with dirt from my collar to my cleats.
I’ve come a long way since then. I’ve seen people come and go. I’ve studied and graduated. I’ve traveled and settled. Now its time to turn the page, dip the quill and begin anew.
My fingers joined the dense entanglement and began to lift. I wonder how this plant feels in this moment. Unearthed, suspended, vulnerable. It probably felt uncomfortable and reasonably so. The moment past as I placed the plant and it’s soil into the new, and spacious, planter. With this the plant could truly flourish.
Strange how relatable that is. Sometimes I need an escape from that which constrains me… Sometimes I need more space to grow. Sometimes I just need warm sunshine on my skin and fresh air the breath… then given enough time … I too, will grow again.