Repotting

January 1, 2024 I was grouchy, out of mind, as I got into my Honda in the driveway and my almost ex-husband told me from the steps that Jesus tells us to love everyone and to treat our enemies as our friends. It was spring break. He was taking two of our kids to a no heat no electricity cabin that you had to ski to. Having made no other plans, I was going to the Y for yoga. I needed to get out of the house, and my daughter was coming with me. I was angry with him for having made a plan that worked mostly for him but not anyone else. I was angry with myself for not having made my own plan. Planning a vacation, committing, spending money on a vacation -- these all had been holding me back. So while I could blame him for holding me back, I was holding myself back, too, because I was scared of making a plan that the kids wouldn’t like and I was scared of spending money when we were spending $400/hour on a mediator to get divorced and had already spent $13,000. So Mary and I went to the Y. It was a weekday and I was in the back of the gym, surrounded by mostly senior citizens, trying not to think, trying to stay in my body. I rebelled: after the Y, Mary and I went shopping. The truth is that I really dislike shopping. There’s no real revenge or therapy for me in shopping. But looking at plants sounded good, so we drove to a nursery. My favorite was fluorescent green, big long leaves, exuding light and joy and invitation. We debated, I took photos, we left. Janet Craig limelight it was called. After bike shopping and lunch, Mary and I returned home. I went into the dining room, looked around and walked right back out to the car. “It will fit,” I told Mary. “We’re going back.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I am not a gardener. I love plants and I love flowers. I admire tree trunks and the willow that used to be outside my window at school. I water my plants, I talk to them, I spray them with my water bottle. Some last and some don’t. When I called my sister from Home Depot, there looking for a new pot to repot a plant, my sister said, “You know, in the movie 28 Days with Sandra Bullock, the main character has to keep a plant alive before she can start a relationship with someone.” At Home Depot I chose two plants that said low light, one of which, senzevaria, a colleague had recommended as impossible to kill. I got a new blue pot, too. I asked another customer how he was choosing a pot. We talked for a couple minutes. Then he said, “I need to call my wife to see what color she wants.” Was he afraid that I was flirting with him? Flirting. The thought makes me laugh. I don’t know the last time I flirted with someone. In therapy this week, my therapist suggested my going on some dates. I don’t see it. Yet. But I was amazed that she could see it. That she could see that there will be another life for me after this. As the tears seeped out of my eyes as I lay on my back trying to go to sleep three nights ago, I thought, I wasn’t this miserable when I was married. How could it really be worse now when I feel like I’m doing the right thing? I didn’t cry this much when I was married even when I was miserable. --------------------------------------------------------------------- This afternoon the sun was out. I took my new soil from Home Depot and my plants, including Janet Craig limelight and one other whose name I don’t know, and took over my back deck. I talked to the plants as I put my hand between the old plastic pot and their soil with all the roots mashed in. “I know that they say that it’s traumatic to repot you guys, I know. But I’ll take good care of you. I think that this is supposed to be good for you. And then you’ll be healthier. You’ll grow better. But I think it might be tough at first.” I made a mess, scraped my finger, added water, knocked over the watering can, called a friend for advice on repotting. She googled with me, talked it through with me, looked at the photos I sent her. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- One plant I have fully repotted into my new Home Depot blue ceramic pot. The Janet Craig limelight I repotted, but once I had repotted it, I realized, in concert with my friend, that really, I need to split the plant and then repot each part. I’ve never divided a plant. I’m afraid I’ll ruin the whole thing. The limelight is still growing tall, but it’s not looking nearly as bright and shiny and fluorescent as it did when I bought it last March. It looks good if I don’t compare it to how it looked at the nursery on that March afternoon with Mary. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Maybe some things have to be divided to grow. Maybe repotting is traumatic. Maybe it’s okay that I’m still crying about getting divorced and worried about how I’m going to afford living on my own. Maybe the trauma will be temporary. Maybe I’ll grow again, too. I may just need a lot of help.