My Grandmother.
My Mother.
All of them have green thumbs.
Me.
Not so much.
So imagine my pleasant surprise.
To discover where I am seriously lacking.
My love is not.
He too has a way with plants.
Our apartment is filled with pots of big leafy vibrant green.
The real kind.
Not waxy and fake and ficus.
Maybe he'll teach me someday.
Or maybe.
For the sake of the plants.
I will just leave it for him.
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