The Death of Prospero

My mother has always had a rather black thumb when it comes to indoor plants. When I realized that I had not brought my plants back with me after Christmas break I had the feeling that I might possibly return to find them in dire condition. I had not imagined that either would be dead.

Tonight, my first night home for Spring Break, while my mom was showing me her favorite American Idol contestants I looked over and noticed my plants. The African violet is still quite healthy but Prospero, my ivy, is dead. I never realized anyone could be so attached to a plant. When I touched his crispy, dried green leaves I wanted to cry.

Prospero was my first plant. I got him at a ladies luncheon the summer after my freshman year of college. He was my experiment to see if I had inherited my mother’s knack for killing plants. Instead of dying, he thrived (other than that time some of his leaves turned purple for some reason – I guessed that it was the result of being to near a cold window and supposing it must be autumn). He inspired my attempt at growing garlic in my window sill (note: garlic should not be grown indoors unless you have a deep enough pot or poor olfactory senses).

For the last two years he has been my travel companion on the multiple trips back and forth between home and campus. Through these years I’ve coaxed him out of autumn and pruned him. I’ll admit, I’ve talked to him. I’ll miss him.