Unfiltered Story #328199

My mother and I live in the same village and we are very close. She decided – years ago – that she would move into a retirement home when she turned 80. Her birthday is in November so this will happen sometime next year. It is now October before her 80th birthday. She has slowly been sorting through her stuff; deciding what to keep and what to give or throw away. This has led to some interesting conversations. Today she called me out of the blue.
Mom: Do you have any potting soil left? I only need a little bit and I don’t want to buy a new bag.
Me: No, sorry. I used everyting I had.
Mom: I just need to repot this plant. Your dad bought it in 1983 just before he died. It’s not really my type of plant, but I kept it and it languished for years before I decided to repot it. It’s been flourishing ever since, but I think I need to repot it again. Never mind, I’ll ask around if anyone has any soil left over. This plant is now almost 40 years old, isn’t that weird?
I lived with my Mom until 1994 and have been to her flat at least three times a week in the the last 15 years. I have never heard about this plant or it’s significance. I don’t have a lot of things from my Dad and cherish every piece. How did I not know about this?