I sit on the kitchen floor, surrounded by small piles of dirt and several small plastic pots, while Katie dances around me cooking dinner. I'm repotting herbs that we bought earlier in the spring that have since become root-bound, along with an aloe I've carried around since before I moved to Brooklyn from Queens.
It's been awhile since I've allowed myself to really care for plants (the spindly aloe, especially, shows signs of having suffered under my recent neglect), but back at my old place in Queens, I used to have literally rooms full of them. The feel of the dirt under my fingernails and the smell of the soil is good, and reminds me that, when I pay attention to things, I take a great deal of pleasure from the small details of simply maintaining life - be it mine or something else's.
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