friends that have passed away

I got to thinking about indoor plants recently. I've always liked them; in homes, waiting rooms or foyers. Often when I'm going over old photographs I go straight past the face– it's usually a face – and stop at the pot plant in the background. Nearly always I feel very wistful. 'I remember you' I think. Photos and drawings in notepads are the only record I have of them. This one here, for instance, I drew back in 2002 when I was living in a converted garage in Port Vila, Vanuatu. It's a mother-in-law's tongue. It was very well established and seemed to thrive, like all living things – aside from humans – in the tropical conditions. I'm not sure what happened to it. I guess we left it behind when we moved. That's the thing with all the pot plants that I've lived with over the years. I honestly couldn't tell you where they ended up. Why is that? I have a feeling it has something to do with the regularity with which they "pass away" on my watch. See, I can't even say it. I think that's called D-E-N-I-A-L.