Little plant

When I was younger I longed to grow quicker. I would stand on my tippy toes, breath held in anticipation as Mother struck the wall with a line of lead. I pleaded with her to tell me how much I’d grown, hoping it was more than a bucket load.

"You’ll grow up when you’re ready." She would reply softly. "Everything happens when it needs to. Not too early and not too late. Just at the right time."

It was not enough. My impatience grew, but my height remained the same. I would watch her out of the glass sliding doors, tending to her plants. She’d water them so carefully. The droplets dripping rhythmically off each leaf. If water was all it took for them, why not me?

I dreamt of lush greenery where my hair once sat. The leaves flourished proudly from their stems. Up and up they grew. "How tall you’ve grown!" Onlookers would coo with delight. The stems grew so far they danced among the clouds. Brilliant emerald with flecks of amber swaying in the breeze.

One morning I noticed Mother had left her watering can unattended from her early gardening. If it could work just once I’d be happy. Without thinking twice I leapt over, holding it high above my head. The metal glimmered in the sunlight. Deep breath. Eyes squeezed shut. I felt the water trickle down my back. Water gushed over my freckled nose, falling dramatically down onto the grass.

Little plant

"I wanted to see if it would make me grow too." I told Mother as she towelled my hair.

"Oh", she whispered, "my silly little plant. Your time will come and you will be the tallest and most beautiful there has been."

Eventually I grew. Not too early. Not too late. Just at the right time.