On the ledge in our apartment, a plant grows with hanging vines and thick, rubbery green leaves the size of quarters. We have had the plant for more than a year, ever since we brought it home from the store last summer. To our surprise, the plant started to grow purple things that looked to me like long teacups. Then, from the teacups, came forth red flowers that looked to me like dragon mouths. Ten or twelve of the these red dragon mouths grew from the ends of the lowest hanging vines, then, not more than two weeks later, the red flowers started to fall. We picked them up and put them on the window sill, not wanting to get rid of their red beauty. Sitting at the dining table, I realized what was happening. I could be wrong; I am just guessing. But it seemed that the flowers likely contained the seed of the plant. They were being sent forth to find fertile soil and grow a whole plant anew. I was sad then, because all the seeds had failed to find fertile soil. It made me think of our human race, and how we might one day send astronauts deep into space on a colonizing mission from which there is no hope of return. Such was the fate of these flowers. They were sent forth, with no hope of return, to find fertile soil and spawn a plant family anew, or else never know plant kin again. The rubbery red dragon flowers did not know that they would find only hardwood floor, and die alone.

Originally written on: August 23, 2020