Plant Walker

15 Minute Write

For the last 21 days, each morning, he would take his plants for a walk.

It was impossible to understand why he felt so alone and so lonely. Although he liked his own company, by now he was getting sick of it. He wanted to regain the pleasure that companionship brings and the only way would be to give up his precious time to others or another. 

He had started to try to connect but realised that he had, perhaps, been out of contact with others too long now to fit in or be able to bond. He was either too distant or too intense, he couldn’t comprehend the idea of small talk, let alone partake in it. He didn’t have any hobbies that involved others whether supporting a team, being part of a night class, dancing or even drinking ( which he loved to do, ferociously, but always alone) Sometimes he yearned so much to not be alone that he thought he might emotionally strain himself into a heart attack. And on such occasions, he formulated his harebrained ideas to engineer meeting people. 

Loneliness and shyness are often close bedfellows, but luckily this was not the case for him. In part, perhaps, because he felt that the only way to meet people was to force yourself to be seen and the more he put this into practice, the better he got at feeling neither self-conscious nor anxious. It would be a stretch to call himself confident, but he came across as a rational human being rather than a mad loner.

To stand out, to be noticed, you needed to make a statement with who you were, usually in what you wore, how you styled your appearance; or what you did. It was the latter that he took to a whole new level.

Taking plants on his morning perambulations had seemed like such a great idea, after all, who doesn’t love a plant? Almost, he imagined, like having a dog - he was always seeing dog owners stop and have a chat, the groups seemed to form then ebb and flow as more joined or left - it had seemed so sociable. He couldn’t have a dog - he had thought about one, imagining that it might even cure his loneliness, but his contract strictly forbade animals and he wasn’t sure he could take that level of responsibility. So plants it was. Everyone had an opinion about them, surely. Everyone would want to talk about their plants, how green-fingered they were or how they always killed them.

But to date, he was having little success. People did acknowledge him through mild gestures very occasionally, easily missed, but no one stopped to talk to him. He had worried that he had got this wrong - that he had overstepped into the zone of the ‘weird one who walks plants’ until he crossed a fellow plant walker. This one had had their dog substitutes in a trolley which they were pulling along behind them. But then it dawned on him that the impression he got was not one of ‘someone walking their plants’, rather merely someone moving house or delivering from a shop.

The next morning he vowed to stop, but habits can be hard to break - unlike plant pots, especially when dropped from arms when bumped as two people try to pass through one exit door to a block of flats simultaneously …

“ Oh shit! I’m so sorry, let me replace that pot for you, it was totally my fault … I’m Toni by the way, I work in the florist up the road - why don’t you walk up with me and I’ll sort you out ”

Bunhill Cemetery, London. September 2020. Nikon d750