Abby's Plant

Abby is one of those special people. She has a calming energy about her that puts others at ease. She can make you laugh, and hard. She gives awesome hugs. She is one of the things I miss most about my old job. When I first met Abby she was a counselor and I was an intern. As we moved up the ladder over the next couple of years, Abby was promoted and moved to another branch of the organization, and I was promoted and moved into her old office. Once she relocated, I missed our chats throughout the day and eating lunch together. I did; however, have a piece of Abby to keep me company- her plant. Abby's plant was, very appropriately, a peace lily. It was nothing fancy- just a regular green, leafy plant in a plastic pot. Something you might find in the floral department of the grocery store. But since it had been Abby's, and was now all that remained of her in that office, I grew kind of attached to it. So much so, that when I left work to be a mommy I asked my boss if she minded if I took it home with me. I brought it home, re-potted it, and put it in my living room. I loved that plant for all it represented- my old job, my old life, and most importantly, my old friend. Eventually, Abby moved to New York and our infrequent visits become nonexistent. The plant became even more important to me. Over the years I took care of that plant as best I could. I had had bad luck with house plants before, but I was determined to keep this one going. Then, one summer while we were on vacation, that plant suffered. I don't recall if it had been deprived of sunlight, water, or both, but it just wasn't the same after that. I tried my hardest to nurse it back to health, but it was clear that Abby's plant just wasn't going to make it. When we moved to this house last February I brought a dead plant with me. In denial, I would not so much as empty the pot of dirt. As Spring drew near, in a final desperate attempt to save this plant and all it had come to represent, I placed the pot outside. A few weeks later, to my amazement, there were signs of life. Two types of plants were sprouting- the original peace lily and a new coleus. Even typing this I know how odd it seems, but I was thrilled that the plant had not given up. Whenever I walk past this plant I think about so many things: that it pays not to give up, that it makes me feel complete to hold onto the past while forging ahead into the future, and that special friends stay in the heart no matter how much time passes.




Abby's Plant today- changed, but thriving


Abby and I in early September 2008

S.A.D.

My favorite month is June. The entire summer stretches out before me in all of its warm carefree splendor. July is also nice. By then we are in full summer mode- lounging by the pool, taking trips, and enjoying a general state of relaxation. For me, seasonal affective disorder begins in August. I can already feel summer slipping away. By the end of the month school has begun. We are forced to return to a rigid structure and less opportunity for relaxation. Then, before we know it, September is here. The holidays are upon us and I move indoors to become a full-time chef. Even though the days are still warm, the nights are cool and the pool becomes too chilly for swimming. The leaves somehow know they should start falling. It is the beginning of the long wait for summer to return. Though this is cute:




I much prefer this:

Snapshots

When the day is long, the whining is loud, and I am beyond tired of wiping other people's noses and behinds, I like to focus on the snapshots. These are the small moments within the seemingly larger ones. The moments when I can't help but smile. The moments I always want to remember. The moments that will remain with me when my girls are grown and I yearn for the long, whiny, wiped-filled days of yesteryear.

Happy New Year!

Shana Tova!
Wishing you a year filled with good health, happiness, and peace!