"A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a {Plant}who affectionately waits for him will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the "why" for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any 'how.'"
--Viktor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning
Ever since Henry PLANTagenet has come into my life, a lot of things have changed. For one thing, I no longer feel like I have to achieve so much. Practically this means that I may not feel the need to impress you with some fancy pictures. I might just recycle a picture of my boy from two weeks ago.
Who cares, if I maintain my status as the top blogger in the Fourth Quadrant of Cleveland Heights? When I come home, I am coming home to a penthouse filled with love and insects.
Each time I am not with Henry PLANTagenet and I hear sirens I worry. I rush home to find him in front of the TV, or browsing my books and I feel like everything, everywhere is OK. And then I wonder if this insects are attracted to him, or if he is some how generating them.
I can't let all of the insects, everywhere take hold of my imagination. I have to think about Henry's future: the first book of fiction, his tenure track professorship, his blog noted on blogger's roll call of blogger's blog of note. And his insect free home.
In the middle of the night I wake up thinking of how I am going to explain the Birds and the Bees to him. And then I wonder if that is even necessary. Because I don't think either is relevant to him. To be honest, as far as I can tell, I just arbitrarily decided Henry was a he. For all I know....
Some day I will find the right words. But for now, I just need to find out if the small, maybe poisonous insects could have been hiding in Henry's soil and if so how fast the bees are going to be fertilizing the little killer insects.
With Continual Reference to Justin Kahn.
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8 comments:
Echo.
Echo.
Echo.
echo?
every parent feels this kind of worry. You can follow my parents example and hack into Henry's email, mentally translating all the innocuous conversation into "drug code", search his pot regularly, develop an intricate network of "moles" to observe his activities, all the things loving parents do. you might find it reassuring.
Taihae, Shhh.. you may wake the plant.
W.E.B. Alecia,
Echo? Like I'm standing alone in a vast canyon of no comments. But No Longer. j.
taihae,
I have been working hard at keeping 'moles' from getting at Henry.
J.
P.S. Sorry, that's the only pun I could get out of your comment.
Comrade K,
Plants, like fish, don't require sleep. But I more than make up for Henry as I require between 14 & 18 hours. j
I once went bowling and ate a sandwich at the same time. There were knitting needles, knitting needles everywhere. Like an old lady convention. The sandwiches said, "Where is Justin Kahn?" and I said, "Shut up and bowl." And we did.
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