Flower Pots

My first real date with my then crush,

and now love-of-my-life was at a plant nursery.

I remember telling him that living away from home gets me homesick and lonely at times and getting a beautiful little plant and nurturing it would be a healing mental exercise.

To watch it grow, water it, give it the right amount of sun and watch its flowers bloom would be such a liberating experience.

He loved the idea and asked if he could accompany me on my way to pick the perfect sapling.

Together we selected a beautiful little potted plant and to this day I do not know what the plant is called.

The man who sold it to me told me its name but it was something in Hindi, which I couldn’t ever recollect again.

It was a bright illuminating pink and had a catchy yellow centre. The leaves were soft and danced to the movements of the wind.

These blossoms stood out in a sea of potted plants and that was the one I decided to take home.

I woke up every morning to see if new buds were forming and if they did I would feel like a proud plant parent.

Having the little plant in my room took me to a happy place and it always helped me wake up with hope.

Almost a year and a half down the line, the flower pot was not the only one that nurtured and bloomed into happy blossoms.

I was his flower pot too, and he was mine.

From friends we blossomed to soulmates,

We taught and we learnt,

We grew and bloomed,

Still growing,

Our roots gaining strength,

Longer and wider,

We went from flower pots, to garden plants and soon enough you will see full grown trees.

The ones that live forever.