Blood and Guts: Helena Lazaro
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The Quiet Wheel
June 15, 2003 03:43 PM

Watering the sad plants on my balcony, and thinking. Like a neglected fern, an affection that is not nurtured will eventually wither away. Unless the love you are cultivating is a succulent. They never give up. It's kind of scary. But comforting. No matter how I abuse and forget them, they sit in their little pots still, waiting for any drop of water that might rain down upon them. Does this mean I give them special attention, or appreciate their tenacity? No. It means they get watered last. After the ferns, and the spider plants, and the decorative grasses. Because I know they will wait.


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