Today my dad and I cut a branch from a rose plant and replanted it into a pot. I felt awful the whole time. Empathy is in my top 5 strengths which means even when I kill a spider I wonder if it was sad. So, here we are attacking this rose to try to make it better.
I had to dissect the healthiest part. Then rip off the flower. Stab the bottom of the stem and then slice it open. I had to chop off half of every leaf. Then shove it into the dirt and smash all the dirt around it. Finally, I had to trap it under a mason jar.
When we are all done, I stood back and looked at this pathetic little two inches of a branch, sliced, poked, smothered and I prayed that it would root. There is so much potential in this little stick. With a little luck and science, it will root and grow into a whole new rose bush.
I'm that branch. Last year, I was sliced, the best parts of me ripped away, and now I have been shoved into dirt and I'm sitting here, a small version of the person I was last year, just hoping and praying that I take root and grow into a whole new person.
With any luck (and science) I will be bigger, better and more beautiful than ever.
