A short, short story for the kids:

dedicated to Benjamin Sooy

From project to project I work extensively being certain that every detail is tenderly cared for and in proper placement. Progressively my mind begins to melt from the lack of interaction between me and my creations. I speak and touch and visualize the beauties produced in my mind, but once completed, the creations think nothing of me. One tuesday, I believe, when I was finished assembling a rocking chair, or some other useless and unoriginal work, I rested the nails and hammer for good. I wish that even my hammer would shed a tear, due to his retirement, or the nails would smile in relief of the pain from the metal stock continuously pounding their foreheads. Once I stepped away from the construction utensils I redirected my attention to living, animated projects. “What to do, What to do” I thought as if I were in a predicament of national security. It became apparent to me, rather, that although my non-living creations were good, they were never thankful to be what they were. On this day, I decided to build a greenhouse and grow special plants. My idea was simple, if the plant is healthy than it’s thanking me for life and for the necessities, but if it were not healthy, i suppose it would be outraged and sad, which was better than silence i presume.

The next morning I awoke and used the hammer and nails for one last project. After several months my new greenhouse was complete. I bought a variety of seeds, soils, and pots to begin. I figured I would start my run at creating new life small, so I only planted two seeds. After days and weeks of watering and proper attention the seeds sprouted into lovely little plants. Late at night I would sit next to my plants and adore them over a cup of tea. The tiny sprouts of life brought joy night after night, and right before I would leave them to retire, I would simply stare and know that it was good. Each morning I would wake up and take photographs of my plants so I could recall their developmental stages. I put everything I was into these plants, even my own sweat, which I would mix into the water that hydrated the plants. Each of these plants had my image and traits somewhere in their stem, or possibly the petals.

One day in particular, oddly enough I believe it was another tuesday, I was viewing the photographs I took of the plants and noticed that the pots seemed to be moving themselves. Over a span of seven days the pots had moved an inch away from one another. I was beginning to grow weary of the will that these plants possessed. I didn’t think much of it though until one morning I noticed something completely bizarre. I walked into the greenhouse to see not two pots, but four. Two of the pots contained the beauties I had created, and the other two were simply healthy, ground up dirt that had been watered. Since I lived alone, I could not begin to understand how such an occurrence could be possible. I once again disregarded the obscure circumstance and began to water and tend to all four plants.

At least once a month for the next several months, a new pot with a new seed seemed to form without my aid, until all the pots were used. Even stranger, the plants seemed to have formed families with their ancestor plants as if there were two alliances. I began to journal and photograph these unfamiliar traits. I still hydrated and gave nutrients to the plants, making their lives possible. The only struggle I had was that my plants, who were suppose to be glorifying me through their life, were more concerned with their own gain and production. I began to feel useless again, but continued to live my life vicariously through the plants, basically to reassure myself that I was worthwhile.

One night, again a tuesday, i feel asleep in the greenhouse after a late night of tending to my plants, when I was woken up to the sound of what seemed like whispering. My eyes opened, but the rest of my body stayed complete still as I played spy to try and solve the mystery. The whispers were so quiet that I couldn’t make out what the words were precisely, but knew in fact that it was a voice. I lifted my eyes straight up with my body still completely motionless and noticed the plants huddled into their family groups, whispering. I was so alarmed that I fell off my chair and ran as far away from the greenhouse as I could. Since I was overweight I could barely make it 30 yards before I needed a cigarette and water. I was stunned, but once my thoughts were collected I approached the greenhouse once again to get a glimpse of the unreal circumstances taking place.

After days of documenting what I had witnessed, I noticed something rather strange. It seemed that one of the plants had withered and died. I was rather clueless, being that I cared for each and every plant the same. Daily, I had openly poured my whole self into each, equally treated plant. Although peculiar, I still continued to write off my discoveries, because I wanted the plants to acknowledge me as their maker and tell me how thankful they were. I continued in this way of thinking for some time, until one particular evening…

It was Tuesday, November 30th and I had just watered the plants and turned on the heater in the greenhouse, to keep the plants from freezing, when I heard loud screams that rattled my eardrums. I spun around in a hurry, nearly tripping myself up to see a full fledged war between the two families of plants. Stems were weaving in and out of dodge and petals were wrapping around throat. Roots were being ripped from the soil and buds were being smothered by opposing plants. In that moment, time seemed to have stopped. I was trying to form some kind of peace treaty in order to bring happiness to the plant community, but instead I found myself on my knees, weeping, but this time not for myself. Oddly, the plants had taught me that caring for others is of more importance than gaining recognition for yourself. It was in that moment that I stepped outside and noticed that nature had been talking to me the entire time. I gazed at the moon and noticed a halo, which from my eye looked as if it were an inch from the moon, looking right down at me. The gazed down on me taking the form of a pupil, and gave my mind wordless encouragement, just as the soft grass did for my feet, and the wind for my skin. It was in this moment of triumph that I walked into the greenhouse and violently thrust the plants off the table, just before they could attack me, and destroyed my predestined concoction to gain love and joy. I then went back outside and enjoyed a soothing cup of tea one early Wednesday morning as I soaked in the peace of what had been tugging on my heart all along, yet in my own, selfish desires, had overlooked…