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Why won't my little pretty grow?

Bright sunny Summer, to golden blustery Autumn, and finally to cold white Winter. The seasons had come and gone up until this point. Clara had lived her life the usual way each and every day. Nothing changed. Her life was just turning about on a wheel of regularity. Yet instead of finding comfort that came with the ordinary lifestyle, a feeling she had loved for so long, this time she felt distressed.

After all it wasn’t just her life now. Oh no, this life did not solely belong to her anymore. Nowadays she shared her time and energy with her child. Course this wasn’t any child, this was on the opposite end of what one thought of a child. This thing that sucked up all her time was…a cabbage.

Yes, remarkably so after finding the little green vegetable adrift in her local park’s lake, Clara took it in. It would have made a delicious meal that night if the hairdresser had not found out was really inside of it. What was this saving grace? Well, supposedly it was a child.

A living breathing child. Flesh and blood, alive and well. That was what stopped the hairdresser from slicing open the cabbage and boiling it in hot water. That was why she took it everywhere in a side bag she bought specifically for it. That was why, for six months, she looked after the little hedge of leaves as if it really was a baby. All the love she possessed was placed into taking care of the little thing.

Not to mention she had spent a pretty amount of pennies making a room for the child-to-be. The room was filled with toys, a comfortable bed, and a wardrobe of uni-sex clothes. Clara had even gone as far as to paint the room herself a nice light blue since any kid, boy or girl, liked that color. She had asked every customer she had who had a child, or a little kid themselves, what their favorite color was and out of the ten dozens of people the most agreed that blue triumphed over red, yellow, and the other shades that made up the rainbow.

In the beginning, when she was fresh on the idea of parenting, the young woman brought the plant into work and rested it upon her boss’s counter. She thought it was safe there, up high and out of reach from any little tykes. Yet the placement of her leafy vegetable began to take on negative comments from customers, for they said it was an eyesore, and soon she had to move it into the backroom. After a close call between her veggie-baby, a co-workers wandering child and scissors, Clara had finally decided to keep her little bundle safe at home nestled in some comfortable blankets on her bed.

Whenever she was given the chance though, such as when she had to go out to do laundry or go grocery shopping, Clara would take the little guy with her. Nestled in the bag she specifically bought for the greenery, it was toted across the town while Clara ran her errands.

Clara watered it five times everyday. The reason why was because about a week into looking after the cabbage, back in August, she realized how dried up it became if only watered once a day. After coming across a shriveled cabbage even after upping the ante to four water cans of water at last she found that it needed five to stay nice and green.

So that’s what she did. When she got up, before leaving for work, when she came home from work, after dinner, and before she went to bed that pesky little plant-bearing creature was watered. Honestly Clara had begun to worry about ocean’s amount of water by the time she reached the month of December.

Now it was Janurary and still nothing had come out of the leafy green. Clara hated to, but she had begun to doubt that she’d ever see anything come of it. Perhaps that manual that she kept resting on her side table beside her bed was just created as a joke. Maybe there was no child inside the cabbage. It was all probably just a prank, a hoax, devised to make good citizens waste their money and get their hopes up on something that would never be.

As she stood beside her window, coffee in hand, and a frown on her face Clara watched the snowflakes drift down from the grey clouds. The fluffy spots vanished amongst the great mounds of snow that coated the land. It was a serene scene. Oddly enough it matched the cheap painting advertised in the recent parent’s magazine. Just one of those things you find pretty, but would never ever buy.

A light laugh fell from her lips as she drew her arms closer to her body. Why did tonight have to be so dreary? It was a new year. Two thousand and nine, the final last digit before the millennium fell into the double digits. Big things were supposed to be happening now, or were going to come. Yet all she could think about was that stupid cabbage.

Clara scowled and with her free hand reached up to wipe away the moisture dribbling down her chin. After all this time, from August to now, with nothing happening…maybe she just wasn’t meant to be a mother right now. Maybe this was God telling her she had to wait to find the “right guy” and then, after marriage, when the time was perfect she’d be able to have a little tyke to dote on and adore.

All that work…all that time spent on taking care of it! Had it all been for nothing?

The young woman turned her back on the outside world and sauntered back into her cozy hideaway. Her little cabbage was seated wrapped in a pretty red blanket upon the couch as the TV buzzed with the local news. Slowly Clara set her coffee on the table and took the little green plant into her arms. Without another thought she sat down upon the couch and stared at it.

Her heart ached as she eyed it’s veins and curled edges. It would need to be watered again. Yet she just couldn’t stop searching for a sign, any sign really, of existing life inside of it.

“My little pretty…” She murmured as she drew her legs up close to her chest, just enough so the cabbage could still be seated between her knees and collarbone. “Why won’t you grow for me? I have done everything for you…why can’t you just do one little thing for me?” With a mother’s tenderness, Clara drew her arms around the plant and just held it close to her.

As the snow continued to fall another night would be marked with Clara cuddling the plant and wishing for it to grow. Yet hopefully, this night would be the final one spent alone. It was a New Year after all, and there is always one wish granted in the New Year. Perhaps this wish, this great big wish, would be the one?