Pot Bound

Recently, I repotted my plants, digging them up unceremoniously and plopping them into new terra cotta homes. I am not tender with transition, and in my carelessness I uprooted them in a way that they seemed to find utterly disagreeable. 

They didn’t seem to understand that it’s what they needed for sustainable expansion. They were perfectly happy with tight boundaries, growing protectively over themselves, winding their respective roots tightly, tethering them to soil they’d already leeched all the nutrients from. 

For most of my life, I functioned much as an air plant does, with a willingness to accept what I was given, the bare minimum of care, so when I found somewhere I could put down roots, I too grew pot bound. I wilt during the adjustment period, but come Spring I’ll turn toward the sun and sink my toes and fingers into rich, cool soil, planted anew.