An Unexpected Loss

I hadn't been paying as close attention as I should have. As I drew open the kitchen curtains today to let in light for the air plants nearby, I looked down and immediately became alarmed. The green and burgundy beauty was not well. Her color was noticeably dull. What were once healthy leaves bursting with life, were suddenly devoid of it and curled into itself in despair. 

I gently lifted her out of her vase to inspect further. She seemed dehydrated and calling out for water. I had just given her a routine spritz the other day, but didn't really look at her. Where the signs already there? I thought back and could not recall. I gently set her back down again and took to the web to see what to do. 

By all accounts, it appeared that she was severely dehydrated and in need of some TLC. I prepared a bowl of water for her to soak, and decided to give her siblings one as well. I stared down at her in the water, hoping to see signs of revitalization occur before my eyes. I went to make lunch and came back to check again. She did seem to be perking up! Maybe? I scooped her up out of the water to look closer. Oh no. Several of her leaves came off in my hand. My heart sunk a bit. Maybe it was just a fluke. But then even more came off. Not good. She's now half the bulk that she once was and seemed to be even worse off than before.

Crestfallen, I inspect the bottom leaves. They are very dark. Too dark, in fact. I know what this means. She was subjected to rot. Perhaps some overwatering, or not enough drying time in between, despite my best efforts to avoid that. I then second guess her placement on the kitchen table directly by the window. Maybe it wasn't enough light for her? It is the side of the house with more shade. Maybe it was a combination of all of these things. 

She and her siblings have become a respite and distraction for me in these past few months. Their unique nature of not requiring soil in which to grow is so fascinating, and speaks to their low maintenance qualities. There's something so cheerful and soothing when I look at them. I have often found myself staring off into their direction and getting lost in their happy shapes and colors. In a year marked by such uncertainty and inexplicable loss, this hits harder than I expected. She was a bright spot whose beauty was cut short too soon. 

I look down at her again, wistful for her short existence with me. I only just acquired her back in August, a gift from my Mom. Her colors were so unique and eyecatching, and I thought (hoped) the spot I chose for her would work out. She's laid out on a paper towel now, in melancholic vestiges left behind from the futile attempt to save her. Her veritable autopsy is complete. 

I'm so sorry I didn't see it earlier that you were in trouble, and that I couldn't save you. I had so hoped to cultivate your life into something more, to see you thrive and grow. I'm so sorry. I promise to be more mindful of your siblings and their needs and care. You'll get a proper sendoff and won't be too far away, even in your demise; I'll bury you in the garden and will think of you fondly each time I gaze out there. 

The beauty in better times. 💔