Why I am Like Old Potatoes

You go to the store, and you decide to buy the 5# bag of potatoes, as this is the ‘better buy.’

You make the meal with potatoes that night or the next, after all, that is why they are on the shopping list...

Life goes on. Then one day you ‘remember’ you have said potatoes, and low & behold, the eyes are bugging out, and some real vines too.

Left alone, in that dark space, in the original bag, those ignored potatoes grow. Never mind the miracle that these spuds grow while the other houseplants are duds & die off faster than it takes to bake a potato in the microwave... It is how they grow that I identify with.

Lately, I have been rather reclusive - left to my own devices, in the dark, in my original packaging.

Yet, miracle of miracles, I too emerge with bulging eyes, eager to see the light, with new shoots of life ready to spring forth. (It is a metaphor, La Wry is not pregnant)

I find myself now willing to creep out past my earlier, original confines. I find myself changed. Growth has occurred.

Now, I find myself in the same position as when I reach for the bag of potatoes to cook with: I look at the new growth & wonder what to do about it.