Jade

My jade plant is the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. She sits in our bedroom window, facing south and greeting the day. She seems to almost shiver with anticipation when I open the blinds, as if to say hurry! hurry! I've felt kind of sad for her for a long time, since we've had a long stretch of days where the sun has not shone and it has just sort of misted under heavy gray cloud cover.

Yesterday, it snowed. And the power went off mid morning, leaving us with a gray, cold day to wait. Day turned into evening. Still no power. I went to shut the blinds.

"Maybe tomorrow," I told the jade, trying to sound upbeat and hopeful. Frankly, I was cold and mad. For god sakes, it was only four inches of snow, albeit, very heavy snow on trees that had yet to shed their leaves, so power lines were snapping like licorice whips. We went to bed early.

All the lights came on at 1:30 a.m. just to tease us. Fifteen minutes later, after we had shut everything off and turned the electric blanket on high, the power went off again and stayed off until nearly 4 a.m.

The jade and I both were not amused.

But, this morning, the sun was out and the house warmed. I lollygagged in bed for a while, but finally got up, dressed and opened the blinds to a full blinding sun and a bright blue sky.

"Here we go," I told the jade.

I talk to my jade plant. She and I go way back. I bought her over a decade ago. I decided that I needed a plant for my office, but since I didn't have any windows in it, needed something that could live in office light. I was at my local Walgreens one day after work and as I waited in line to be checked out, saw a table filled with tiny little jade plants in tiny little pots. I read the ad next to them.

JADES FOR SALE! THESE ARE TINY AND REQUIRE LITTLE CARE!

Sounded like just what I needed. I picked one up. She was no bigger than the palm of my hand. I took her to work with me the next day and set her on a tiny teacup plate at the edge of my desk. I watered her gently every Monday, but otherwise ignored her. She got no light, except the office one.

Within a few months, I noticed that she was outgrowing her pot. I went out and found a lovely clay one and took her home with me one weekend and repotted her.

She had strong little roots, snakey tendrils that clung and held. By the end of the year, I had repotted the jade plant four times. I never named her. I don't believe in naming plants or trees. I only insist on naming cars. But, I did talk to jade. If I was having a busy day, I would tell her that I wished we were in Ireland. Maine. Anywhere else.

"Where are your people from?" I would ask politely. Then I would tell her my family history. She knew it all, right down to that one family member whom I can barely stand.

I never really fussed over jade, but I did polish her leaves now and then. I kid you not, she preened like a cat getting a good belly rub. Especially after people began to comment on how lovely my jade plant was! How regal looking! And just look at those healthy thick paddle leaves! Co-workers would come in and I felt her subtly leaning towards them, especially women with soft, melodic voices. I think she just liked the sound.

I became vain over my jade. After 5 years. I finally decided to bring the jade home. It was nearly summertime again and she had grown to need a 12 inch pot. I lugged her out to my car one May day and set her out in the back yard.

Where she became a glamorous, giantess jade. That summer, she grew like she was chugging Miracle Gro steroids and a high carb diet. I repotted her  once again and even pruned her enough to repot 5 more little jades to give to friends. Then, when Autumn came, I decided that she was too big to lug back to my office, so I lugged her into the bedroom and heaved her up on a dresser. We both grinned like fools.

YAS, QUEEN! THIS IS WHERE YOU BELONG.

She hasn't moved since. Every once in a while, I prune her and give out more little jades to friends, but I think that jade has finally found the place that works best. Her stems are as thick as my thumbs, like baby palm trees, and heavy. I have to turn her every few months because she careens towards the sun like all good flowers and ends up pressed up against the window.

Like all of us, she just needs to be with someone who cares about her well being. She enjoys a cup of water once a week. Not too cold and not too hot. That is all she asks.

And sun. How she loves the sun. That jade has been with me longer than any other plant in the house and I plan to keep her with me until I die.

She has never talked back to me, never told me that she likes me, but...hey...what is not to like? I keep her alive, polish her leaves and tell her daily how beautiful she is. I have also told her every single secret in my heart. So, we are invested in each other. The last time I was pruning her, I got the strangest feeling that the jade needed a little friend, so I kept one pruning for myself and now this little jade sits next to the huge one.

I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure they visit. So, maybe I can hear some of the jade's secret thoughts, too. She wanted a friend and I provided it. We also have a very aloof cactus plant that sits across the room from them. I don't think they talk. Cactus' are private. They also don't listen well. I just know this, don't ask me how. They are like the stoic grannies in the room. They don't ask for much and aren't that physically attractive, but sometimes will suddenly bloom one single beautiful blossom and you stop and think, when did you manage to pull that off?

 I just know that I have become accustomed to my jade. I would miss her if she were gone. She continues to grow and now needs a new pot.

Somehow, I think she will outgrow me someday and that is just fine.

You go, girl.