Mimmy Bee aka Mimosa Eva
Day 7 of Veg
I am so in love. This seed just feels special to me. I realised as I uppotted I treat my seeds like babies. From bassinet, to cot, to cot rails removed, to single bed, then finally to a queen size.
I want to share a story that is me in a nutshell, tragedy wrapped in humour. I have a short version and a long version on the off chance someone actually reads my dribble in here.
Short version
Mum and Dad are dead and my orchid is in flower.
Long version
So that pot you can see, the bull, his name is Russell. It had an orchid in it (omg apple orchid still has me cringing btw) which was doing poorly so I transplanted it to a special place in my yard, and this is where my story ends if you stick with it lollllll.
So my mum really had trouble keeping her panties on. Omg I’m getting flashbacks of my younger brother finding this big red buzzing thing in her drawer. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it definitely wasn’t the neck rub machine my brother tried to convince me it was - as he rubbed it on his neck - not even joking LOLLLLLLLLLL. So back to my original story, from a very very young age I was my mums “best friend” she used to tell me about her sexipades and conquests, and the one that burned itself into my brain was the “just after I married your dad and before you were born...”. So from that day, I think I was maybe 7 when I heard it, 11 when I reconciled what it could mean, I had this awful awful fear, my dad wasn’t mine.
Fast forward 20+years and my very sick father was in for surgery. I waited in his hospital room for his return. When he was brought back, the singlet he had been wearing was on his bed, I noticed it had blood on it so I took it telling him I would wash it, but thinking I could get it DNA checked. The two years that followed my dad slowly died before my eyes, and the singlet sat in my cupboard. Sometimes taunting me, other times crying for me. But there it sat like a smoking gun. And it stayed that way, my dirty secret. Nearly 20 years it sat. It moved with me from house to house and sat and it sat and it sat.
I confided my mental story to a friend who basically said let it go. What good will come of it? I realised to move forward I had to let the past go. So I buried his singlet in my backyard. And marked it with a cross.
Now Mum’s story, I think most of my friends in here know, my mum overdosed on oxy maybe 5 years ago. I was in charge of organising the forensic cleanup and sorting. Oh and finding an electric toothbrush beside her lounge chair was red vibrator all over again, except this time I knew the ramifications, there were defs no teeth being brushed with that thing! LOLLLL My heart broke a little when I saw she still used the purse I gave her many many years before, and it broke a little more when I found a tiny crumpled picture of my son in it. So that became my next unhealthy symbol, it actually sat in the same box with dads singlet for quite a few years, so this year on the anniversary of her death I decided to let go, and I buried my mum’s purse next to my (fingers crossed lollllingggg) dad.
Now this is where it gets funny. Imagine someone digging there and first finding a bloody singlet and then a wallet which contains licence, bank cards etc! Makes me smile when I think of it everytime I pass their spot.
Today I passed their spot and noticed my poorly orchid decided to flower for them which made me big smile.
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