A story of flowers and a florist

I’ve always known myself to be a thinker.
It had become one of my hobbies; The one circumstances developed for me, but I had begun to enjoy nonetheless.
My thinking sessions have still not produced the solution to climate change or steps to attaining world peace and eradicating corruption. But, they provided an avenue for me to scrutinize my thoughts, my emotions, words and situations around me that directly affect me.

This past week, I have done a lot of thinking.
But not in the way you’re thinking (pun intended). My thoughts are introspective, retrospective and border on ruminations.
I was thinking about my relationships; (This past week, 3 of my friends had their birthdays back to back), I was ruminating on my future- the one I want and the one I will get. Preparing myself, from now, for the possibility of disappointment and readying my heart to cushion the blow if it ever comes.
But, I digress.

Today, I want to talk about relationships, my flowers and the florist.

The florist paid a visit to my house this week and he cut off a lot of my flowers.
You see the thing is, they were already sickly- growing, but sickly.
I tried my possible best to nurture them back to life- even watering low maintenance plants twice a day.
I was desperate, eager, hopeful…that I could bring healing.

My research yielded nothing but a renewed knowledge of common houseplants in Nigeria (mother-in-law’s tongue aka snake plant, croton, spider plant, climbing ivy and so on).

I shared my distress with my father.
My plants were dying and I was losing most of my “nurtural sense”.
My father called the florist.
The florist uprooted the dying plants, he uprooted the sick plants; I’m writing this now close to tears because, I had hope for these plants, I nurtured these plants.
I expected a solution, not a replacement.
Just last week I transplanted some of my plants because I wanted to see a change- but, nothing.

I now have new flowers…to nurture, to grow.

In many ways, you have been me in this situation.
Holding on to relationships because of the sentiments involved, with hope that tomorrow it will experience a growth spurt and all your effort will finally be worthwhile.

In the time I’ve spent thinking, I tried to define what a good relationship is and the only thing I could come up with is ; “feels like home, freedom, acceptance and love”. My flowers stopped feeling that a long time ago in my flowerbed, but I held on because of the sentiments. I was not ready to begin again, to nurture new flowers; I had built something remarkable with these plants.

It took the florist cutting them off for me to accept the truth reality had been trying to show me all the while.

Just let go; if you’re doing too much, the truth is you might never do enough.
Maybe the reason you can no longer see growth in your relationship is because the flowerbed no longer feels like home, freedom, acceptance and love.
And that is okay.
Breathe, exonerate yourself.
The roots have probably hit the concrete and the best days of the relationship are past.
Let go, hold on to the beautiful memories, the lessons and allow yourself build again.

One sick plant does not mean bad soil.

You now have new flowers…to nurture, to grow.

And in nurturing them; “expect the best but be prepared for the worst”