There has not really been one part of growing older that has been bad for me. I am still waiting for the grey hair because I’ve dreamed of it for years. I firmly believe that my monthly facials will soften the deep skin lines, all of which I have earned with a life well lived.
What I have liked the most is building friendships with people older than me. People I first knew because they were parents of high school friends. Teachers I had throughout school who now school me on the really important things. These friendships bloom after time has passed, if you’re lucky.
One such woman recently regaled me with her knowledge of plants – she owned a landscaping company for years – when she caught me day dreaming at the potted cyclamen in the grocery store. After the long New Years hugs we exchanged, she asked if I was considering the plant.
She is a reader of my blogs and knows that I am not particularly good with indoor plants. She has a faith in my green thumb that I do not harbor. I told her I really was mostly intrigued and in love with the color of the blooms. I think I might have mentioned that I would only kill it. “No you won’t. These plants can take a lot.”
I then took a moment to tell her about the orchid I recently received from my husband who was assured that “orchids are easy and you can’t really harm them” by the florist. Within two weeks, it was holding brown, crunchy blooms and now lives at my mother’s house.
My friend listened with her ears and then smiled with her eyes before saying, “Orchids are hard.”
Totally made my day, and she garnered another hug with that comment.
Sentimental me took her comment to mean a bit more. Later that day, I moved kitchen furniture around to allow the geraniums more southern light. They are the only plants that I bring inside…and only because of the color of their blooms. Well, that and their willingness to not give up on me and my green thumb. Sounds like a friend of mine.