Matlida, Faith, and Decka

I've always had a love/hate relationship with plants. I would love to grow beautiful plants, in- or out-doors, and they hate me. I have the perpetual black thumb. It's so bad that when I see plants any where and start gravitating towards them my family and friends quickly divert me.

I've often said, upon seeing a particularly lovely plant, "I'd love to take that home and kill it." Not that I'm homicidal at all, just realistic.

In my 40-some years I've had three major plant loves. As the oldest of 5 siblings I didn't get my own room until I was 14. One of the first things I did was buy a plant for my room. I read up on raising plants and felt totally prepared. I bought a very small ivy and a HUGE pot -- as I read that the plant will grow to fill the pot. I purchased the best potting soil out huge metropolis of 5,000 had on hand. I water it, spritzed it, played it music, and talked to it. I even named it Matilda. It manged to hold on about 4-6 weeks before it became obvious it was never going to make it.

As I was taking it down stairs, on my way to dumping it out, my mother told me just to sit it down in the dining room and she'd take care of it. At this point I didn't see that there was much she could do to hurt it, so I left it.

Within a year Matilda was so big she trailed around the entire 10x20 room. She had single leaves larger than a grown mans palm. I never actually saw Mom water, dust, spritz, or talk to Matilda. Matilda was the focal point of my mothers houses for over 20 years. Hell, for all I know she may still be.

My second case of plant love was with a Christmas Cactus. Oddly, I can't even remember how I ended up with that plant. I didn't plan on falling in love with Faith in the beginning. In fact, I didn't even name her until well in our second year together. I know, shocking she was still around then.

Faith came to live with me when I was around 16 or 17. It was during the time I was really beginning to have doubts about the faith I had been raised in. I hadn't really learned anything from my experience with Matilda and I over-watered and over-cared for Faith as well. Well, it was that or she wasn't too fond of the music I was playing in those days. Within a few weeks of coming to live with me I declared Faith dead and dumped her in the back yard.

Oddly enough, it happen to be during a time when I was feeling very negative towards religion. Three of four months later with my life back on the narrow, boring, and very straight path . . . I happen to glass down as I'm walking outside and there is a small twig of Faith growing from nothing in the back yard. In shock I dig it up and plant it in a pot and put in back in my room. For months it is the happiest and healthiest looking plant you can imagine.

Then about the time the restrictions imposed upon me by my church began to wear me down, I notice Faith drooping. Another week or two and she's out in the back yard again. Several months later, when I'm happily attending church again I make a trip outside just to sure and D A M B. There she was.

This same cycle is repeated for probably 3 or 4 more times over the next few years. I can't remember what happened to Faith. But as she seemed unbelievably tied to my religion, which I quit in my early 20s, I figure she finally died for real.

They were not my only attempts at growing plants inside or out. But they were two plants I will never forget. This week, I brought home another that will mean a lot to me and I have no idea how are life together will be; her name is Decka.

The last day in Brady, just hours before we headed for home, I took the car and drove out to the cemetery to tell my sister, Becca, goodbye. I would have preferred to have gone alone, but I have this 3 feet tall shadow who goes by Will.

Being surrounded by loved ones for the two days prior to -- and the day of -- the burial, I knew I was going to break down once I was alone. I drove out to the grave site with no clear plan in mind; just the knowledge I needed to say goodbye. I started snivelling on my way out and Will wanted to know where we were going. "To see Becca," I told him. I tried explaining why I was sad. I told him that Becca was my sister, just like Bonnet and Tori are his sisters. Then I explained how Becca was in the box we had buried the day before. Since we had a closed casket, this was a very hard concept for him to grasp.

Once we got to the cemetery, it looked like Becca's flowers had just been tossed upon her grave with no care at all. So I got out and straightened up. I found some silk flower arrangements and dug a hole deep enough at the top of the grave to hold them upright. I removed the standing wire frames from the arrangements and laid them out neatly over her grave. I took the limp roses and pulled the petals off and scattered them over the entire grave site. Then I found water and filled all the vases and wet down the arrangements. And the entire time I allowed my self to cry like my sister had died.

As you can imagine, it freaked Will out a little. "What's wrong momma?" "Don't cry momma." I tried to calm down a little and let him know I was okay. Then he starts saying, "Let's find your Decka, Momma." "Where's your Decka?" It took me a little while to clear my head enough to realize what he was saying. He thought finding my Becca would make me stop crying . . . and I cried harder.

After we left the cemetery and drove around a while we went back to load up the trailer to leave and my sister-in-law had put a potted plant from Becca's funeral into my trailer. That was the beginning of my new plant life; Decka.

She made it home and I watered her. She's all perky looking right now and I've got her in my new sun room . . . where she is the only plant around. She looks sturdy and hard to kill and I have a determination like never before that she'll live. At least long enough it doesn't kill me to loose her too.