It is with great sadness that I announce the passing of, not thyme, but Cilantro, my dearly beloved plant.
We met on a Friday, a few short weeks ago. As I journeyed from here to there, I discovered a tall, green plant that looked expectantly at passerby, as though to say, please give me a good home.
Happily, I agreed, tucking it with care into my knapsack. When we reached its new living arrangement, I placed it in the company of my other plants.
Alas, it was not a sunny spot. I told my mother, “It will just have to deal.”
Which, in the plant world, was equivalent to tough love.
Later she wrote me, “Check the soil before watering.”
“I always do,” I responded.
Well. Almost always.
When the occasion calls for it.
Okay, I admit I have been known to overwater a plant or two.
Could that be at the root of Cilantro’s untimely death? Or was it the lack of sun?
When she heard the news of dear Cilantro, my mother suggested I say Kaddish for it.
I will also plant a plant in its memory.
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