Tell me things like

Tell me things like

I wish I were as resilient as my plant.  Her name is Ginny and she lives in a pot on my dresser, except for lately; this summer she's been residing in the kitchen next to my sister's plant (the nameless), where I hoped my father would remember to water them when the rest of us were out of town.  Ginny never dies, even during the busiest days where I forgot to water her and the winter days during which she got very little sun.  Her leaves, dashed with pink, just pop back up, unharmed, like I never forgot about her.  She never gives up hope. 

I, on the other hand, am hopeless.  I look up to my plant.