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| in the morning |
Someone misguidedly gave me a plant as a housewarming gift last July, not realizing that I dislike taking care of living beings. It’s grown on me — as it were — and now I think I’d miss it if it weren’t here, but it’s all I can do to check its soil once a day and add water if necessary. Many days even that much feels like a strain.
Humorously (because I’m an atheist), it’s one of those things they call a “prayer plant” that opens its leaves in the morning and closes them at sundown. I have no green thumb at all, so I’m surprised by how healthy it looks. It must be thriving in my life only because there’s plenty to pray about.
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| at sundown |
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