texting_my_aunt kerry she is 83 so she texts like she is writing a letter or an email. today it was: "hi kiddo, been thinking of you all day. easter isn't the same without you. i miss our time together. love you. -sarah" with a picture of a red tulip planted for her friend kathy, whose garden she tended as she died. i sent her pictures of the houseplants i've been repotting, a jade sprouted from a leaf i stole off a neighbor's plant, the daffodils that i forgot i planted in ancient dirt in the patio, dirt that was there when i moved in, and the orchid shamelessly vibrant pink and purple. usually i get a few shots of new blossoms in her garden and a heart emoji, "miss you, kerryqueen!" or a panorama of her backyard, which is a constantly evolving jungle that looks messy and is actually very intentional, curated chaos. i have a vivid memory of standing with her there, i was maybe 12, and she was showing me a lambs ear, stroking its leaf with her fingertips. she always had long nails and she would run them along my spine when we were on the porch at the lake. another memory, we are at the botanical gardens in atlanta and she is cupping a flower in her hand, admiring it, pleased that i also find it beautiful. when i lived in oregon i had an actual backyard with grass and plants, my landlords were next door and they kept it all up, and i'd send my aunt pictures of the roses and clematis and little mushrooms, on a walk in the woods or on bald hill i might find a curious looking flower and send her a picture asking what it is, and she would always have the answer. i kept a trader joe's orchid alive through several bloom cycles and documented them all for her. (i also grew marijuana from seed, plants several feet high, lush with frosty purple buds that stunk up the whole house and i was very proud of those and thought she'd appreciate all the effort and research if it was any other plant.) now i only have houseplants and a concrete box with walls about five feet high. last month she came to town for the annual flower show and i took her to a hip cocktail bar in the gayborhood--she didn't want food, only a drink--and she ordered a cosmo, "not too sweet, please" and i had some bourbon concoction and she showed me nearly every picture she took, all the displays, she knew the name of every plant i asked about, i felt like i did that day in her garden watching her long nail drift across the screen of her phone. i walked back with her to her hotel so i could use the bathroom, and she linked her arm in mine. she insisted on walking me to the subway station, worried that i wouldn't make it home safe. i didn't want her to come down into the station where it reeks of piss and blunts and BO, just hugged her tight, my nose in her pure white hair, mist turning to drizzle around us. 240330 what's it to you? who go blather from