the plant

Before Dana left her job, she did such good work that one of the aristocrats gave her a plant, a hydrangea bush in a little plastic container. She left it here at the house and every morning when I was leaving for work, I would look at this pitiful, drooping mess and feel bad about the neglect. I wondered how it must feel when all it wanted was a little water and attention. Keep in mind that I am the same guy who used to howl laughing at my friend, Martin when he planted his "boys" out in front of the house and I would drive past and see him watering them. "What a fruit-cake!" I would yell out the window at him. But just like broccoli, morning coffee, and using my new tv tray, caring for this plant was just another step in the long road to adulthood. I began to water it. Every morning I would shower the little guy with the nectar of life and every afternoon he would reward my diligence by pointing his leaves a little further skyward. The once blue blooms have now turned brown and died from the heat, but the plant is doing alright. I took it out of the container and planted it in the front yard right by the hose a couple of weeks ago and it hasn't died. It even looks healthy, a little.