Rootbound

Loss is vast in its suffering...and it's another opportunity to hold hands, align hearts, and make meaning.

when it comes to friendship, I have an agenda. When you’ve secured your spot in my heart, I’m all about loyalty and longevity. 

And while it isn’t always easy to maintain long-term friendships, weathering every storm and overcoming differences of opinion or values, in my humble opinion, the juice is worth the squeeze. 

I thank my lucky stars that this notion struck me early in my adult life—the idea that friendship is a worthy investment. Twenty and thirty years later, it has more than paid off. And although I will pay interest on this emotional endowment at the end of the day, grief is just the cost of doing business. 

In the meantime, I hope to participate in as many deep, meaningful, and authentic friendship vibes as humanly possible. I’ve grown too fond of the relatability and the humanity to give it up out of the dear of loss. After all, loss is vast in its suffering...and it's another opportunity to hold hands, align hearts, and make meaning. 

If you love Love Stories, I invite you to read Rootbound, a portrait in plants. It’s all about resilience in chaos and regeneration despite all odds. This is a real life letter I wrote three years ago (almost to the day) when I was irresistibly compelled to speak to motherhood, family, and long-standing friendship with the story of a spider. 

🌱🕷️

There once was a family that weaved its way in and out of my life half again as long as I am old. Me + the baby of the family are thick as thieves when fortune favors our calendars. And, as sisters do, I am sisters with her sister and gotta special kinda bond with the brother. Over time, we have come to play support roles in many memories. 

I learned a lot about what it means to represent for your family from this special 2-parent / 4-kid / 6-grandkid nuclear unit. It broke my heart to stand witness as both matriarch and patriarch slipped off this mortal coil. 

It was the best of times; together, forever.

Paul and Terry Scheutte, rest in peace

The cycle of life is a fickle muse; nevertheless, she inspires me. I have written before about the death of a paramour and spoken openly about mourning someone who is still alive. Mortality always gets me up in my feelings. 

It was this mood that delivered a letter of condolences and living momento, a gift to each “kid” commemorating the power of motherhood, grit, and the power of regeneration, even in unforgiving conditions. 

With permission, I am sharing this story with you <NAME>. If you’re up in your feelings about the cycle of life and lingering too long in loss, get into the hero’s journey of the humble spider plant and cue the Lion King Soundtrack. You’ll feel better, I promise. 

PS Scroll to the end to get an update on the spiders. 

Thursday, August 2, 2018

Dear Al, Jen, Mags, and Scott-

Nowhere is the power of regeneration more evident than in the common houseplant we call “Spider.” 

Despite even the most despicable conditions, Spider presses roots forward into a tight bind. Leave it in the sun too long? Forget to water it? Leave it outside way past the frost? Spider will simply dig deeper into the dirt. Spider will take the ups and the downs with true grit.  

Give it good soil, enough water, and room to grow — Spider will sprout MINI-MEs in abundance. You can put the babies in water and they will root, living happily in the glass or nestled in a little pot. 

Spider will grow beyond the container, it’s only a matter of time before the roots are a tangled mass of interconnected systems choking each other out. The plant will need to be divided, clusters of Spider sent off to homestead. 

(And she told two friends, and she told two friends, and so on and so on….)

I got my Spider from Torrance Anderson, one of the most affable and considerate guys around; a gift to bless the latest makeover of the little apartment at 801 A St SE. It is the only plant that made the journey to 1729 Shore Drive. I have transferred it to larger pots twice. 

I like to put her outside in the summer and in for the winter. It is in the winter when Spider really suffers, dependent on me for water and the occasional haircut. Spider’s leaves brown at the tips, creeping higher the more I neglect her. The ratio of yellowed and loose leaves to bountiful babies falls up and down the barometer of my nurturing attention. And lemme tell ya, Spider is low on the food chain. 

Yet Spider soldiers on. I anthropomorphize her clicking off the days in her mind to when she’ll move to the patio and bask in the semi-shade with plenty of rain. 

And so, dear Schuette, on this most devastating of time for your own “Inner Spider,” when the tips of your leaves feel brown, brittle, and thirsty, take a moment to check in on this Spider right here. May that moment bring you peace. 

I gently coaxed four teenagers from my root system and repatriated those puppies into  new(ish) pots, lousy with good soil and room to grow, anxious to get to sprouting MINI-MEs. 

From my family to yours, life in constant regeneration. (We’ve been bound for years, why not make it Flower Pot Official?) 

May it be a subtle reminder that your mom had the same grit and tenacity of Spider  — and that her babies are sprouting like a motherfucker. #nailedit 

That was her legacy to you. 

🌱 UPDATE:

This just in 🗞️ from #TeamSchuette: The spiders are thriving! 

PS It’s been very cool sharing the personal story of my forever friend Maggie Schuette (and her supportive siblings) for participating in the publication of this personal post. 

Maggie and I met at the Station Grill in 1996-7, bonding over day drinking and black socks. And since that day, we have remained loyal to the raw honesty of your mid-to-late twenties (when running amok on Capital “The” Hill with a bunch of other urban adventurers was a way of life) and now it’s the most low-key BFF vibe ever. 

As such, this story is near and dear to my heart. It’s been an honor and a pleasure to revisit this moment in time I shared with Maggie three years ago. 

So, a very big thank you and the public shout out to “Mags” and the rest of the Schuettes for being a party to the creative effort. Cheers to tenacity, grit, and sprouting like a motherfucker. 

Yours in love letters and fun with flora,
Rebecca

The Two Shepardesses, indeed.