People ask me why I never married. I smile and say that marriage wasn’t meant to be. I’m sure that they wouldn’t want to hear that I was abused during the last 10 years of my relationship and likely would have died from the abuse had I married.
People ask me why I never had kids. I smile and say that having kids wasn’t meant to be. I’m sure that they wouldn’t want to hear that I don’t want to bring a child into this world. I was assaulted by my “best” friend. To impose that on my spawn..I mean offspring, or worse be the source, is not an option.
People ask me why I don’t have a pet. I smile and say that I’m never home. I ask how that is good for the pet. I’m sure that they don’t want to hear that to this day, I have nightmares about forgetting to feed it or let it out. I wake up in a cold sweat when I touch its lifeless pet corpse.
People ask me why I don’t have a plant. I smile and say that I don’t have the proper growing conditions along with a black thumb. I’m sure that they don’t want to hear that I’m toxic and can’t even keep a plant alive.
Last August, my brother-in-law died. When I returned, my coworkers presented me with a beautiful plant. It had purple flowers. I was touched. In order to diffuse my tears, I made a joke to take bets on the survival time. Little by little, the flowers tumbled.
Then there was one.
Since November, the flower held on. People laughed and I gave it representation to all of us who hold on, despite the roughest challenges.
My former department took my job. I have a new job that I love, so there, former department. The person who took the main function is intelligent but VERY immature. While training, she fiddled with things at my desk. She spilled water and just couldn’t sit still. At first I thought she was like me some xxx number of years ago, but no.
Last week, she came to ask a question. True to her fiddling form, she started playing with my flower (stop it).
The flower popped off.
In mid-sentence, my eyes and mouth opened huge and my hand clamped over my mouth to stifle what my brain wanted to say. All that escaped was a squeak.
Before I knew it, she was running to her desk and returned with tape. She taped the flower back on and said, “all better, now. It will never die.”
The plant’s leaves are still green. The plant is still alive, but the flower is receiving no nourishment. As much as it hurts me, I’m going to let the flower go. Being forced to hold on is not the same as holding on.
The Matticus Kingdom 