THESE BEAUTIES HELD ON UNTIL I CAME
On May 28, 2018, at 6:00 in the evening, I left the
office with a heavy heart. That day was officially my last day working in the
company which I helped set up. Because of the chaos of moving out, and because
of the rightful demands of the business person who bought the company plus my
own personal errands, I could not go to that office until July 19, 2018, when I
finally had the time to visit my beloved ornamental plants.
I had difficulty breathing for a few seconds when I
saw them again. Some of them had died; the leaves were already brown and
brittle which means, they died long before I arrived. The person who bought the
company was so busy that he did not have time to even think about the plants in
the small veranda which my boss and I turned into a secret garden. (The
veranda is at the back of our office. A small door covered with a single panel
curtain connects that veranda to our office, that's why we aptly called it The
Secret Garden.)
When I arrived there in the afternoon of July 19, I
immediately watered them and promised the company owner’s wife that I’d be back
to get them the following Saturday. So there, on July 21, 2018, at 5 in the
afternoon, I hauled the flower pots to my house.
I had to save what could be saved and throw away the
withered ones. Below are the plants that survived. By the time I got them they
were already leafless and they looked dead. When I lightly scratched the base
of their trunk, however, I saw that they were green. The roots,
therefore, were still very much alive and they could be nourished back to life. I
am not sure whether or not plants can understand words but anyway, I talked to
them, repeatedly telling them to grow their beautiful leaves and flowers
again when they are ready. I even apologized for neglecting them for such a
long time.
Why are these "ordinary looking"
plants so special to me? It's because each plant has its own story.
I bought these in December 2015. It was Christmas vacation and my boss was in his home country. I was alone in the offfice. I was not required to stay there during the vacation but I had nothing to do at home. Being alone in the office, I thought, was much better than being alone at home. While I was surfing the net, I suddenly thought of going to Quezon City Memorial Park and bought ornamental plants to decorate the office with. When my boss came back the following year, he was very happy to see them. There were also tiny flowering plants that I bought at that time but unfortunately, those plants were among those that died.
In April 2015, while my boss and I were preparing for
the soft opening of our company, a long-time friend gave us this beautiful
gift. This kalachuchi had no more leaves when I got it back in July, but hey..
aren't those pretty pink flowers a beautiful reward for all my efforts to grow
it back?
One Saturday in August 2017, my boss suddenly sent me a text
message asking me to accompany him to the park to buy some more flowering
plants. This hydrangea was one of those potted plants that we bought. When we
bought this, it had eight big clusters of purple flowers. When I saw this again
in July 2018, however, it was only a grayish stem. When I stooped to check its
roots, I noticed some small green "lumps" at the base, near the
roots. I knew that under the right conditions and with much care, it would grow
leaves and flowers again. Those tiny lumps are the same leaves that we can see
now.
My boss was particularly
fond of this one. He thought it looked lovely hanging from the wall in
our secret garden.
This is another beauty that my boss helped me take care of.
Aside from the memories in that academy that are deeply ingrained
in my being, these plants above are the only remaining things now that remind
me of my life in that academy.
During those times that my boss and I would fight, we would go to
Secret Garden and talk. We would look at those plants as we talked. He loves
plants as much as I do. Gardening is one of the very few things that we are
compatible with.
I pass by these plants every time I go out of my house. I
sometimes stop for a while to feel their leaves and yes, I get nostalgic.
Sometimes I long to be in that office again. Sometimes I wish things had not
turned sour.
Just like these plants that looked dead and hopeless but grew to
be robust again, sometimes I feel this hope within me, a hope that someday,
somehow, the things in my life that look hopeless now will grow and flourish
again.
Comments
Post a Comment