The Plant Grandma Left Me

The plant still thrives in my shop window, blooming golden when least expected. On hard days, I read one of her letters. On good days, I do the same.

I used to believe I got the least from Grandma’s will. Now I know I received the greatest gift: her stories, her secrets, her stubborn hope planted in me.

Love doesn’t always come as diamonds or deeds. Sometimes it’s a rusted key in a pot of dirt, a letter in looping handwriting, or a plant that refuses to die because someone loved it first.