March 3rd

Ever had one of those days where you wake up feeling like the world might just surprise you? Well, today was not one of those days. It was the kind of morning where my alarm clock’s insistence felt personal, and the coffee pot’s refusal to work seemed like the universe’s way of saying, “Go back to bed, Theo.”

But, as someone who converses with plants, I don’t have the luxury of ignoring the day’s responsibilities. My fern, Fernand (yes, I name them), seemed particularly vibrant this morning, practically glowing with a green that said, “I know something you don’t.” Fernand has become something of a barometer for my life’s whimsicalities. So, I leaned in, whispered a good morning, and asked what the day had in store.

“You’ll find something lost,” Fernand’s leaves rustled back, a statement vague enough to be a horoscope yet intriguing enough to pique my interest.

After the usual routine – shower, a futile attempt at coffee, then water for my green companions – I headed to work, the cryptic message lingering in my mind.

The day at the tech firm was uneventful, filled with the hum of computers and the clack of keyboards. My mind wandered back to Fernand’s message. What or who was I supposed to find? My lunch break was spent in the park, a sandwich in one hand, a book in the other, and still, nothing seemed lost, at least not to me.

Returning home felt like admitting defeat to the universe’s scavenger hunt I hadn’t signed up for. I greeted my plant family, sharing a chuckle with a succulent about my uneventful quest. That’s when I noticed the corner of an envelope sticking out from under my couch.

Curious, I pulled it out to find a letter from my grandmother. It was dated two years ago, a time when emails had replaced handwritten letters in our correspondence. Her looping cursive danced across the page, recounting a dream she had about me standing in a garden I had created, surrounded by people who were smiling, sharing stories, and planting seeds.

The letter was a lost blessing from the past, a reminder of a dream I had shared with her about starting a community garden, a dream that had been buried under the weight of daily life.

Fernand was right; I had found something lost, not just the letter but a piece of myself I had forgotten. Inspired, I spent the evening drafting plans for the community garden, the words of encouragement from my grandmother fuelling my resolve.

Today, I found more than just a letter; I rediscovered a dream. And maybe, just maybe, it’s a sign that it’s time to make that dream a reality.