Created on Mar 4, 2019.

My parents divorced around 1992. I found out the day we were moving to Ohio from Colorado. We were in my dad’s Chrysler van. The engine was running. My understanding at the time was my mom was going to finish college and then move out there with us. My mom came to the sliding side door and started talking. She hand a pot with a little leaf in it.

I took it, confused.

She said, “You know that ivy plant that I’m always carrying with me?”

I nodded.

She continued, saying that when she was in the hospital after giving birth to me. It was one of the last things her dad gave her. Every time we moved as the military changed dad’s duty stations she would leave starters to her friends and family. She finished by saying, “So, now there are pieces of you all over the country,” and started crying.

Still confused, I asked, “You’re coming after you finish school, right?”

She shook her head, unable to speak for a bit, before saying, “Your dad and I filed for divorce.”

I lost it. She lost it more. We just held each other and cried. A couple minutes later, we left.

The plant my mom gave me didn’t even last one year. It was ultimately my fault for not taking care of it properly.