You gave me a crate full of plants, it’s funny when you asked if I wanted vegetables, I thought they were already full grown, matured, really to consume.

When you handed me a crate full of sprouting, leafy pots.

I had to hide my disappointment.

Maybe I will plant these suckers, dig in the ground, find an opportune spot to help them grow.

Even in this hopefulness, I knew it was futile, I even entertained asking John to plant them for me so as to not disappoint you.

I put them in the sunroom, a crate full of your love and devotion.  I put them in the sunroom where heat and stifled air slowly killed them to the core.

And I’m not sorry, I’m not sorry for killing your plants and your gift, I am sorry that I didn’t say no thank you.

I am sorry that you could have done it yourself and they would be thriving now.  From your own hands, from your own soil.