Basil

Every morning, I look forward to rolling over on my side in my bed to peek over at my basil plant sitting in the window sill of my dorm. My body always feels the urge to start springing up out of bed just to hang my head over the top of the plant and take in its minty, earthy aroma. Sometimes I lean my face so far down into it that I can feel its leaves begin to tickle the bottom of my chin, it is almost as if my basil plant is giving me a good morning kiss as it grazes my skin.

During the first weekend of college, as I decided to go on a tour of the grounds to familiarize myself with where my classes were, the Sustainability Club was outside of the O’Hill Dining Hall and begging for people who were passing by to take a free basil plant. I had been wanting to buy a small plant or two for the dorm, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to “carpe diem” this. Without hesitation, I ambled over to the tent where I was greeted by chipper, bright eyed Sustainability Club members. 

“Hi there! Would you be interested in taking one of our basil plants?” One member smiled eagerly at me.

“Sure,” I nodded as I scanned each and every pot that was displayed before me.

    

As I reached over for one, another member of the club began to push a clipboard and pen in my face. “But first, can you please sign up to be on our mailing list so you can learn more about ways to be a sustainable UVA student?”

Sure, why not? What’s the harm in doing that? I obliged and signed my name and computing I.D.

“Awesome…” The first member paused as she tried to read my chicken scratch on the clipboard, “...Sara, feel free to take whichever basil plant!”

I reached for the one pot with the fullest leaves and tallest stem. I cradled the base of the pot in my arms as I endured on an extensive tour of the school.

Each morning I admire how healthy it looks every time I pour water into its pot. As I lean my face toward my beloved basil, I am never over the intoxicated feeling I get with the fresh fragrance. Having the responsibility of ensuring the basil plant grows by watering it and making sure it is out of harm's way daily makes me feel as if I were a mother. No, I didn't give birth to it, but it is my duty now to make sure it flourishes into a becoming, healthy plant. I feel that I have a grip on my life and this adventure of college by hosting this basil plant in my dorm.

My roommate has a basil plant as well, and it fills me with sorrow as I watch hers slowly begin to wilt each day. As more days pass by, the more hours accumulate with her talking to her long distance boyfriend on the phone. Sometimes, as I am at my desk doing work, I will look outside the window and catch a glimpse of her peering at her basil plant regretfully. I have started to notice the back of her basil plant begin to bend down like a crotchety old man who uses a cane. 

In the midst of a phone call with her boyfriend, she is eyeing the plant like a predator to its prey. “You’re right. It’s so moldy.” She said as she scrunched up her face at the sight of it and drew closer to the pot. In one swift motion, my roommate took the plant into a chokehold and slammed it into the trashcan next to her desk. Rest in peace, little basil.

When I come home from class, it warms my heart to see my plant bask in the sunlight. If I stare long enough, it seems as if my plant is dancing— its leaves being the flailing limbs and its stem being the torso that sways it from side to side. 

Housing the basil in my dorm room makes me not feel so alone in here. Sometimes, it is just my plant and I— it helps make me feel that there is more than one or two bodies at a time occupying the same living space. My little basil plant helps me sigh in relief.

Recently though, I have been waking up with the swelling feeling on my face, a tightness in my throat, and a warm well of tears waiting to cascade down my cheeks. It is triggered with every phone call I make to home. I have been laying in my bed curled into a ball because I am overwhelmed with how isolated I feel in this new environment, or how I failed my first test in college and that maybe I am not cut out for college after all. With my wallowing, I have been negligent towards my basil plant— and much like my roommate’s plant, it has begun to wilt slowly, but surely. Its coffin is waiting in the bottom of my trash can.

I’m sad. 

I’m frustrated. 

I’m suffocating.

I want to break things. 

I feel trapped.

But so does my basil plant. It so badly wants to live too to see another day and grow into something better. 

I watered my basil plant for the first time in five days. I leaned down and whispered to it, “Please forgive me. I’m sorry. We’re going to patch you up.” 

I had laid out a new tissue for it to sit on, and smiled at its wonky stem. Maybe as I navigate my way through this first semester of college, my basil plant can too. We are going to overcome this burden that keeps wanting to put us down. We are going to grow into something bigger and better. We are not going to get smothered by these obstacles.

I want my basil plant to live because it marked a new chapter of my life, after all, I got it within my second day of moving to Charlottesville. It didn’t hit me until days after I took home the basil plant how it must have felt to be ripped away from its home in the cool, dewey soil. What does it feel like to be taken away from everything you know? What does it feel like to say goodbye to something you didn’t know you would miss so much? What does it feel like to say goodbye to someone and be so unsure if you will ever see them again? I was uprooted from my home in coastal Virginia to move here, and I will tell you, it is like no pain I have felt before. 

Who would have thought I had so much in common with a basil plant?

I have learned that with having a plant that you have to be as delicate with yourself as you are with it. 

Both need water.

Both need food.

Both need sunlight.

And when you start restricting one or more of those things, things can become scary so fast. You lose a sense of your mental health, physical health, and even who you are as a person.

I’m starting again to love rolling over on my side each morning to see my basil plant two feet from my face. These past few weeks have not been my best, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the rest of the semester the best it can be. 

I’m meeting people. I’m feeling loved and supported from people near and far. I’m doing better in my classes (I think.) I’m able to have fun now. I’m not boarding myself up in my dorm to be a slave to schoolwork and studying. Everything is finally coming together.

I hope my basil plant feels it too.