Someday you may find yourself in a crowded room with me–maybe it’s a party, or a reunion, or whatever. I’ll make chit chat for an hour or two with no problem. I’ll ask how you’re doing and what you’ve been up to, and I’ll tell you how your kids are getting so big and how your new haircut looks so fabulous. But eventually, you’ll see my eyes start to glaze over and, if you know me well, you’ll notice that I crinkle my forehead more often as if I’m having a hard time remembering something.
It’s at this point that I’ll politely excuse myself and go outside. “I’m going to go check on the plants,” I’ll say, if a reason is required of me. There are always plants that need checking on. There are enough plants on the prairie to keep me checking for a long time.
The plants are content to whisper to me, and they don’t ask me to talk back to them. Just the place for a girl to get her fill, when she finds herself feeling a little empty.