THE NARRATIVE ARC

The Plaintive Cry of a Woman to Her Last Remaining Houseplant

Let me love you

Ellen Eastwood
The Narrative Arc
Published in
5 min readApr 17, 2024

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Women waters a plant by a sunny window
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I unearthed the measuring cup and let the water run so it was nice and warm. No need for a shocking cold shower.

Sammy’s particular with water; he likes a drink, but not enough to get the soil soaked. He’s a devotee of less is more. I drizzled carefully.

The Internet deems “bright, indirect light” appropriate for a snake plant. It’s a bit of an amorphous, worrying description. What exactly is that? I used to adjust with the seasons, moving him hither and yon. But the construction of new buildings in my area has limited some of my light, so now he’s permanently situated in the best spot I can offer.

Having completed plant mom duties, I moved on. But I woke up the next morning to a distressing sight. Two of Sammy’s thick, waxy stalks had tipped over the rim of the pot, broken back style.

“What?!” I ran over to check. The spot where they’d bent was now soggy, having apparently received too much water.

The soil was barely moistened, but somehow, these stalks had surrendered. Deluged, noble soldiers taking one for the team.

At one point, my plant-keeping failures reflected my people-pleasing ways. In my eagerness…

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Ellen Eastwood
The Narrative Arc

Culture and lifestyle writer | Generalist | Curious | Witty on a good day | Contact: elleneastwood@outlook.com