As a child, I remember discovering my dislike of houseplants. My impression formed when visiting others’ homes, where I cringed at the sight of dirty clay pots crammed onto windowsills. Worse than that was the time-yellowed and water-stained layers of newspaper the owners had placed under them to sop up sloppy waterings or catch overflow.
It’s a new year and most everything is new for me with Wade’s sudden death on December 31st. One minute we were nursing the pain in his neck and shoulder; then in the next few minutes, he was gone.
I am writing this on my 28th day without him. I think I will be counting days for quite a while. There will be a book about all of this. However, my inner voice said write thi...
