My Own Pot of Dirt

When my parents married in the Spring of 1999 one of first things we did was plant spider plants. At the time there was some distrust in my life towards male father figures, that had developed as a result of past events. I didn't think my new father was going to stick around. I thought, one day he was going to disappear, like everyone else.The relationship between me and my father was in need of some one-on-one attention. So he made a point to plant these spider plants with me as a way to bond. And we watched as they grew. (I think we also planted morning glories from seed).

After a good amount of time the "papa" spider plant had little stemming spider plants growing out of its pit. My father and I filled a few small flower pots with dirt and we cut off the little plantlings. Each one of them was stuck into its own individual planter to create its own roots. That time spent tending to the spider plants allowed for the distrust in my heart to mend and ultimately helped me to grow, like the little sprouts branching out of the parent plant. 

Just like a little spider plant, last Monday, I was given my own pot of dirt. Though the cutting was a little bitter, I'm at peace knowing that I'm stepping (or growing) into my own plant/person.