The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant



Green

Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing abilities. My friends joke that I could kill a cactus (which, to be fair, I’ve come scarily close to doing). So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant—a supposedly “easy to care for” ZZ plant—I accepted it with a mix of trepidation and excitement. Little did I know, this seemingly simple plant would become my unlikely life coach, teaching me valuable lessons in resilience, patience, and the art of letting go (of control, that is).

Zephyr (yes, I named the plant—don’t judge!) were a comedy of errors. I overwatered, I underwatered, I even managed to scorch a few leaves with too much direct sunlight. Just when I thought Zephyr was a goner, ready to be demoted to the compost bin of shame, something amazing happened. New growth! A tiny, bright green shoot emerged from the base, a defiant symbol of hope amidst the slightly droopy, yellowing leaves.

Zephyr‘s resilience reminded me that even in the face of adversity, even when we feel like we’ve messed up royally, there’s always the potential for regrowth. It might not be immediate, and it might require some extra effort, but the ability to bounce back is within all of us.

Lesson #2: Patience is a Virtue (and Also, Good for Plants)

Now, I’m a notoriously impatient person. I want instant gratification, immediate results, the whole nine yards. Zephyr, however, operates on a different timeline. Those new leaves I was so excited about? They took their sweet time unfurling. Weeks turned into months, and still, they remained tightly furled, like tiny green cigars. I was tempted to poke and prod them, to somehow hurry the process along, but I resisted (mostly because I was terrified of accidentally harming Zephyr again).

And you know what? The leaves eventually unfurled, revealing themselves in their full, glorious splendor. It was a slow reveal, but all the more satisfying for it. Zephyr taught me that sometimes, the best things in life (like healthy plant growth and, you know, personal growth) take time. There’s beauty in the process, in the slow and steady unfolding.