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  • I fill my cart with wilted ferns and tattered rainbow crotons and browning succulents. They are nearly ruined by the late summer heat, but I cannot leave them here to die. They form towers shooting above the cart’s rails, much too high to see which way I should push down the hot aisles. But I take them home, all of them, and I plunge them into water. I give them more than they want. I let them swim in rivers and sit in pools and float on oceans.

    And eventually I pull them out of all that water, and I watch them, and I wait to see if they will breathe again.

    I have been drowning for months, and I do not know how to come up for air. And there you are, reaching down into all that damn water, pulling me out, waiting to see if I will breathe.
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