Everyone Has One

I hadn’t realised it before, but there was something quite delightful about caressing the long, snaking leaves of the spider plants that adorned my windowsill.

Since the last school fête, the plants had become a common sight throughout our small village. As they do—easy to look after and hardy, perfect for even the least green-fingered individual.

I hadn’t noticed my need to stroke and find comfort in their fronds, like a lover’s skin, until I found myself out at a local café and was overcome with embarrassment at watching a couple engaged in the practice right there in a public place. I felt like telling the gentleman to take his plant home for intimacy, but no one else seemed to mind, so I kept my mouth shut. I finished my cappuccino and headed to the store for groceries.

At the store, I had the strange feeling I was being watched as I passed the oranges, satsumas, and lemons. Turning to face the mushrooms, I felt a tickle against the back of my neck that unnerved me and… intrigued me. My eyes closed, and I drifted a little in the fruit and veg aisle.

I snapped back to reality, opening my eyes and facing a larger spider plant leaf caressing my neck as if it were… never mind. I took several steps back and almost knocked over a display unit with several spider plants.

At the till, a gentleman was loading his trolley with a dozen, telling the checkout operator, “I should have enough now to see me through to summer.”

I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something wasn’t quite right when I got home. Even on the journey back, I had seen a number of canoodling plant-and-people couples. Strangely, it felt like the leafy least of my worries.

There was nothing wrong with being intimate with your plants in the privacy of your own home.

However, out in public, it felt a little debauched. I had seen a show about spider plants and human relationships. It fascinated me. But the prude in me felt it should be kept private. No judgment as to what others wanted to do with their lives. I was happy with it just being a minor pastime. Something I did to relax. Nothing too invested or odd. Some people, though…

Today had been draining, and I just needed to wash the weird off, so I headed upstairs, stripped off, and turned on the shower. The heat started to steam everything nicely as I stepped under the therapeutic fountain.

The water ran down my scalp and through my long blonde hair, across my shoulders and down my back. As I relaxed, I felt something smooth brush against my arms. For a moment I assumed it was just my hair clinging to my skin in the water.

But the touch continued—soft, cool, deliberate. Persistent, yet never uncomfortable.

Long green leaves moved slowly across my shoulders and arms, as though testing the space around me. I stood there, strangely calm, letting the tension of the day slip away.

I woke in the morning unaware of how I got to bed but knew I felt happy and content. For the first time ever, I felt focused and unburdened by unnecessary worries. As I rolled over in my bed, the cool fronds—those light green leaves—entangled around me, embracing me, entombing me.

My breathing relaxed, and my body felt light. It was bliss—a strange bliss, but bliss nonetheless.

Beyond my bedroom window, I could hear a calmer, quieter village of people whispering softly to their long green-leaved companions, as the leaves outside the glass slowly turned toward the sound.