Gomez and I have always had our most meaningful discussions in the car during road trips. Yesterday, we were talking about how much Elroy enjoys living here and how great it is to see him mesh with a group of friends. It warms my heart to see him come into his own. I’m not sure how, or even if, that would have played out for him in our old hometown. Gomez said he feels like he’s flourishing, too, and I agreed. He’s always been a great teacher, but it’s much easier to see the results of all of his hard work and expertise in a public school.

Then Gomez said I’m the only one who isn’t flourishing. I agreed with that, also.

I told him that I feel like my succulents. When they were on the porch, they were happy and growing and green. Once the weather turned cold and I moved them inside, they blanched and started stretching for light. They’re pitiful.
Gomez said he was thinking I was more like the hens and chicks in the flower box on the front of our house.

Obviously, I faked being shocked and mildly hurt by his comparison. The neighborhood cats regularly come and use that flower bed as a litter box. They relieve themselves and claw at the dirt, disrupting the hens and chicks and moving them around all willy-nilly.

Then Gomez said, “You’re one of the ones that’s still okay. I mean, it looks fine on the outside, but it’s probably just hanging on by one tiny root that’s still in the dirt somehow.” He certainly ain’t wrong about that. But I chose to put the hens and chicks where they are because hens and chicks are resilient. They withstand the erratic climate in our area, and they perk up, spread, and sometimes bloom during the warm months.

So, here’s my Christmas wish – I wish that the tiny root that’s keeping you okay in the cat shit-filled flower box of life is enough. I hope it provides you with all the sustenance you need to not only look okay, but that it takes hold and spreads to anchor you into actually being okay. I hope that the turds that get dumped into your garden fertilize you into something lush and indestructible.

I’m wishing for resilience for myself. I just need enough to last until it’s time to go back to the porch again.