For the life of me, I can’t keep an orchid alive. I’ve agonized over the growing instructions: water, orchid food, imported potting bark, Japanese ceramic orchid pot, indirect filtered light, diligence -- check, check, check, check, check, and check. But it is brutally apparent that I am the grim reaper of exotic flowers. To those who have bestowed an orchid into my care, thank you for the generosity and for the high praise in thinking I have the skills and necessary magical powers to care for such a temperamental plant. However, I confess that the orchid you gave me died. It barely lasted a fortnight before its precious blossoms withered away and its succulent green leaves deflated to a sad leathery brown.
Friendships are much like orchids because they require a lot of maintenance and nurturing to flourish. As in cultivating an orchid flower, if you make the effort you can grow a friendship that will last a lifetime and is as wonderful as it is rare. Yet, sometimes friendships are meant to be two-week orchids and bless your life for only a brief moment; a college roommate, your best friend in 3rd grade, a co-worker from your old job, or even a bridesmaid that you regrettably included in your wedding. You enjoy them while they last but eventually you let go and they become acquaintances, holiday card recipients, or maybe just a fond memory. Luckily, I have been more fortunate in friendships than with orchids. Case in point: Jody, one of my best, best friends. Jody and I have been friends since we were six years-old, which is essentially decades. Like this silver orchid on a double strand of fuchsia glass beads, she is everlasting and will be treasured forever. The orchid jauntily hangs slightly to the left in its most appropriate place, nearest to the heart. Tucked between the dendrobium colored strands is a surprising mix of purples and lavenders... because as Jody and I know all too well, things that are mixed are more special.
