We bought this poinsettia plant a week before I delivered Maia. Its leaves exuded a very healthy shade of red that despite Tibs’ dislike for uncomfortable travel he ended up hauling the whole pot home to Cavite even while commuting.
Those leaves remained red till we celebrated our first holidays with our little bundle of joy. The leaves seemed to be one with us in our happiness. Then Tibs got drowned in endless sleepless nights and busy weekends and totally forgot the plant needs extra care to retain the red leaves all through out.
Last Christmas, we kept waiting for the red leaves to come out. But they never did. We finally realized the plant was probably still recuperating and it might take a longer period for it to gain back the nutrition it lost. We half expected it to wilt away since it’s been exposed to harsh weather but it hung on. We are still thankful that it’s still alive sans the red leaves.
Fast-forward to today, I almost forgot we have this plant with us. It sort of found solace among other plants that obscured it from plain view. I just saw it again later today while Maia and I were exploring the other plants in Tibs' garden. Maia loves to play with insects and pick flowers from her Dad’s garden and would sometimes wiggle her way into the hidden plants. That’s how I found this tiny struggling poinsettia plant.
As if on queue a question suddenly popped in my mind. The same question that’s been bothering me on and off for almost a week now. "Will I ever see this plant’s leave turn red again?" A voice inside me seemed to be shouting, OF COURSE you will! This plant fought to stay alive, you should too!
Tomorrow, my oncologist will deliver what could be one of the most important news we will ever hear in this lifetime. And we can only pray fervently that it’s THAT news that we have been hoping to hear.
