Mimosa Pudica

Mimosa Pudica, the sensitive plant. It's leaves turn down when it's touched as a defense mechanism. I was once compared to this plant, so we have a sort of kinship I suppose. I planted some seeds weeks ago and there was one lone survivor. None of the poppies made it, and most of my vegetables didn't make it either. Maybe that plant is stronger than it looks.

I took my little wisp of a Mimosa plant home for summer vacation today, cradling it in one arm like a baby standing on the jerky city bus. I wondered if I looked funny, taking such care a few down turned fronds sticking out from a bare sprig. The ajuma (old woman) standing next to me offered me a small black grocery bag, holding it out and open as we were stopped at a red light. I didn't want it, but you don't say no to a kind ajuma, so in the plant went. I grabbed the handles of the bag and it toppled over immediately. My heart jumped.  She rescued it then had me hold the pot as she tied the ends securing it upright. I held it carefully like this all knotted up, feeling sorry for the it all shut up in the dark. Imaging myself unwittingly being surrounded by a suffocating blackness. At the next red light she insisted on helping me put it in my tote bag, on top of my random vitamin bottles and food items.

I arrived home to find the top of the mimosa mangled, sad, far beyond its normal defeated look after having been touched. I had to take some scissors to the top with hopes of sparing the base.

Sometimes the best of intentions still backfire so tragically.