Oh no, oops! I did it again…
I could not believe the small ivy plant sitting on my desk had keeled over. Vines hung limp on the sides of the ceramic flowerpot decorated with daisies, gasping for its last breath. It had been less than a month since I’d bought that plant. Although it had been an impulse buy (I was a sucker for decorative daisies on the pot) I was hoping things might be different this time. Apparently, not. So another one gone… and another one bites the dust.
As mothers, we are also nurturers. We help our families grow, which requires both our attention and patience. We feel pride when our children become independent and thriving adults. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel sad whenever I discovered the shriveled remnants of houseplants and felt personally responsible for killing them. I’m a not a murderer, I’m a nurturer.
Today I was revising a scene where my main character, Kellen, had to make a tough decision. I tried to fix the scene, but nothing worked. I was about to erase the whole thing, “kill my darlings” and start over when I glanced across my desk at my pathetic plant. “Not just yet,” I thought. Instead, I decided to talk aloud to Kellen. I fed her just the right words to say and steered her onto a new path that provided the right conditions for her character to blossom. It was perfect. Not only had I saved my scene, but I’d made it even stronger!
I quickly picked up my flowerpot and doused my plant with water, then set it closer to the window. Maybe a good drink would help to revive it, and perhaps a little bit of sunshine would help perk up those browned leaves. I hoped that over the next few days my plant would be saved too. (Check in next week and I’ll let you know.)
I am ever grateful to be a mom, writer, and— nurturer too.
Shellie
Where the rhythm of the road meets the rhythm of the page
Log:
Miles: 5
Words: 1,000
Shellie Pickett Author 
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