Falling in Love with a Plant

An unexpected side effect of moving to Montreal this autumn has been falling in love with a plant — but not just any plant.

On my 21st birthday, my good friend gave me this plant in a teacup. Usually, she gets me a book, so this gift was out of the ordinary, especially because I do not have a green thumb. In fact, I not only don’t have one but had zero interest in having one. I remember her telling me (half jokingly) that since I was a full adult now, I could take care of something. She was wrong.

This poor plant did not occupy a shred of my attention for over four years. I never watered it, rarely glanced at it. My parents kept it alive. Meanwhile, I moved to Quebec, to New Brunswick, and travelled across five continents over months at a time. When I came back to Toronto, my roommates had taken over watering it when they remembered, which was more often than I did. To be frank, I was surprised it was still alive. It definitely wasn’t thriving, but it trudged along resiliently.

Anyway, along came September 2020, and I upturned my life to move to Montreal, originally for a job that I then quit less than a month later. The plant was the only living thing I brought with me from home. I’m not even sure why; I didn’t feel any attachment to it then, but it was mine after all, and maybe I wanted to pretend to adult.

I’d let plenty of plants die before, but for some strange confluence of reasons, this time I stepped up. I placed her in the sun every day, made sure she got fresh air from the balcony on warm days. I checked her dirt and took her inside at night. I shifted her position on the dining room table to maximize light throughout the day. I know nothing about plants (I don’t even know what kind of plant she is), but she began to thrive.

In two months, she grew more than she had in four years. Then, I began to see the changes in myself. I worried for her when I was away from the apartment on long weekends, and I smiled seeing her greet the sun each morning. I still have no clue why this relationship feels different than one with a pet or even with people, but it does. Maybe it just surprises me that reciprocal love can exist with such a quiet being, flourishing while demanding just enough.

Sansa & Yuri

Now, I’m mostly grateful that she held on and waited after years of scraping by on the bare minimum. Given the right environment, she came into her strong and graceful self. I named her Sansa.

I’m late to the game in realizing all this, but spending time with Sansa has reminded me to care for my own basic needs (water and sunlight). She’s given me company and forgiveness. She’s shown me that the things that need us can be the same things we need in return, and that there’s always a chance to build a relationship and start fresh, if you’re lucky.