Unnamed

          I looked at the porthole for a long time. There, a small white pot planted with a succulent leaf caught my attention. How long has it been when I planted it there? Weeks? Months? I couldn’t really remember. As I went near the plant for closer examination, I saw that molds grew around the leaf, some part were already eaten out to rot. I knew from that moment that hoping for the plant to live is futile, and it’s only a matter of time for its very existence to cease.

         It’s my fourth time to be in a commercial vessel. And in every vessel, I always make sure to raise a plant, give it a name, and talk to it sometimes like it’s a real person. Pretty crazy huh? Believe me. When working on a ship, you will somehow awaken that craziness inside of you from time to time.

         As I said before, it is my fourth time to be in a commercial vessel. Yet, I managed to grow a plant on board for the fifth time. That fifth plant was the one I placed near the porthole. I watered it as necessary, tilled the soil and bathed it in sunlight.  When the first roots became visible, I was overjoyed. I was excited for it to grow. I was excited that somehow, when it turn into a small shrub, it will take away the gloom of my room.

         That excitement turned into sadness when I saw that death became imminent for the poor plant. I already pictured out how lovely it will turn out to be, teeming with life in its small niche overlooking the blue ocean. I already imagined how it will make a small difference: an escape from my exhaustive day’s job and how it will make me smile on days that I might feel sad. So much with the expectations I burdened this small plant that it seemed to have given up on itself.

         I wondered where I had gone wrong in the past months for it not to continue to grow. I remembered how I carefully sifted the soil in its pot. I have made sure that it is neither too wet nor too dry. I did everything that I know in rearing this type of plant but this very moment proved that all my efforts are in vain.

         And then I realized that all this time I didn’t gave the plant a name. It’s quite weird because I named all the plant I had in the previous vessel, except for this one. How come I wasn’t able to name it when I cannot contain my excitement for it to grow? Perhaps I was too occupied with my expectations and my vision of the future that I forgot naming it. Perhaps subconsciously, I decided that I will name it when it is full grown, with leaves, flowers and all. A name doesn’t matter now though. Soon, it will wither and die and rot in the soil.

         I looked at the plant and felt the melancholy once again. This time, things were reflected on myself. I grew up believing that I always have a green thumb.  The belief that I can grow a plant no matter how harsh an environment could be turned out to be just a mere delusion. I was wrong to assume that I can and I will always be able do such feat. I was so full of myself until a slap of reality brought me back to my senses and made me realize that there is no such thing as a perfect ability. 

           That realization and the memories that had happened in the past days enveloped my room in a gloomy atmosphere. It's inevitable. I closed the curtains of the porthole and decided to lay down for a moment. Staring blankly at the ceiling, I knew that everything will no longer be the same.