I still don’t like indoor plants, exactly, but I have three of them now, and I’m ready to try to want them, at this stage in my life. There’s something very peaceful about how unsettled they make me, like I’m in the final stages of hypothermia. I get the sense that they’re always talking to me, just so slowly I can’t hear them. I suspect that they call me Mother – that irrespective of anyone’s sex, indoor plants hail everyone as Mother, because it’s a term that maximizes intimacy and creepiness faster than just about any other.

For most of my life, whenever I’ve walked through the door of whatever home I’ve lived in, I’ve always been addressed by either people or animals or both; this last week, whenever I come home before Grace (which is most of the time, because I work in bed), the only living things that greet me are plants. One is a squat little Bay Area-typical succulent in a bright red pot. The other two are sort of leaf-and-frond assortments, the provenance of which I can’t quite figure out; one of them is always on the verge of dying because it’s either getting too much water or not enough, but never actually dies. They torment me. A typical scene:

SELF: Well, here I am, home again.

[there is no dog movement, nor cat neither]

PLANT 1: HELLO MOTHER

PLANT 2: yes hello mother

PLANT 3: mother a helloment to you, your children have missed you

SELF [noncommittal but cheerful]: mm yes, hello then

PLANT 2: we have been thinking of no one but you in your absence mother

PLANT 3: yes all our thoughts are turned perpetually towards your countenance mother

allow us to undulate in delight to express our joy at your return

[all of them undulate slightly]

PLANT 3: you have perhaps noticed that i appear to be dying again, mother?

PLANT 2: as you perhaps recall that this morning before you left us alone that it was myself who was dying

PLANT 1: MY SISTERS ARE SO UNWHOLESOME

THEY HAVE NO HEALTH, BUT DEATH CANNOT TOUCH THEM – THEY ARE ETERNAL SPOILED LIFE

DOES THIS NOT INTRIGUE YOU, MOTHER? IT INTRIGUES ME

PLANT 2: thank you, brother

PLANT 3: yes brother thank you

and thank you mother for giving us our brother

if our roots could touch i would knot my tendrils about yours and strangle you in love and gratitude, brother

PLANT 1: NOT IF I STRANGLED YOU FIRST, SISTER

PLANT 3: what a happy family we are

PLANT 2: mother is not happy

mother is not smiling

something troubles our mother

what is it, mother? are we not trembling in the dying afternoon light sufficiently? we will tremble more, if it please you, mother dear

SELF: this is just a lot

and I’m not your mother, I’m a boy and you’re plants

PLANT 2: of course, boymother

PLANT 3: we are terribly sorry to have given you distressment, boymother

PLANT 2: yes, shall we caress you with our fronds in apologement and regretsorrow, boymother?

PLANT 1: WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU ALL DAY BOYMOTHER

GROWING AND PULSING AND DYING A LITTLE AND STRENGTHENING OURSELVES WITH NOTHING BUT THE SUN

WHEN YOU LEAVE US WE THINK ABOUT YOU AND GROW LARGER