Summer Love

I first saw you in early May.

You were the only one of your kind, and I thought you were dead, or at the very least dying. Your wide, brown leaves stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of green and purple succulents. “Poor thing”, I thought to myself, “didn’t even have a chance to get out of the greenhouse”. I rubbed my thumb on the tip of one of your fuzzy brown leaves and moved on down the line of greenery.

The next time I saw you, I realized you must not be dying or dead because the greenhouse workers had left you in your same spot. I thought you an odd little thing, if a bit ugly.

I continued to see you all summer long. Over and over people selected your neighbors over you, and your leaves became damaged from all the jostling around. One of your biggest leaves broke in two, the end completely gone. Another visit showed your other base leaf split and cracked, probably from someone trying to figure out if you were dead or not. Over time, the tip of your leaf I first rubbed my thumb along, grew a bald spot. All summer long thumbs rubbed against your brown fuzzy leaf, wearing it bare.

I began to feel sad for you as the summer wore on and you were still there, waiting to be brought to a home and loved for all your brown, fuzzy glory. Sometime in early July, I noticed you were sprouting two new leaves. I felt a swell of pride that even in your beaten, battered, ignored state, you pressed on in your growth. Your soil seemed constantly bone dry. “Even succulents need water sometimes”, I’d think as I stuck my finger down deep into the dry sandy soil. You didn’t get any direct sunlight, which I knew succulents enjoyed. Yet here you were, growing two new leaves.

I found myself thinking about you when I wasn’t visiting the nursery. You’d pop into my head, and I’d hope you’d find a home soon and be able to enjoy the humid breeze and hot summer sun. Then, one of the last weekends in August, I repotted a couple of plants and found myself with an extra pot. It was a small pot, and it was a beautiful deep blue color. I spent the afternoon going through and looking at all my plants, carefully going over them, seeing if anyone could be moved into this blue glazed pot. Everyone seemed happy and fine where they were.

And it was then that I once again thought of you. I realized you weren’t an ugly thing, but one of the most beautiful and unique plants I’d ever seen. In an instant I had to have you. I rushed out the door in hopes that you were still there, that I somehow didn’t just miss you in a cruel twist of fate. I took a deep breath before walking into the greenhouse and held it as I rounded the corner. I let out the quietest giggle as I saw you there, still in the same spot as you’d been all these months. I picked you up and took you home. I gently placed you in the shiny blue pot and smiled at how beautifully it complimented your beautiful leaves.

I placed you right in the center of the window where I sit and write now, a place of honor. It’s funny how our story played out like a quirky summer romance. I look forward to watching you continue to grow, well into the autumn and winter, and next spring and summer.

My leather leaf, my copper spoon, my cinnamon bear.