Once upon a time, in a land far away — well, not so far away — a 20-year-old girl embarked on a flight back to Boston for the second semester of her first year of college with hopes and expectations. She started last Spring semester in her on-campus brownstone with her roommate and a succulent named Pablo. Pablo was born in Trader Joe’s and raised on Bay State Road.
That girl was me, if it wasn’t obvious.
Days went on, and everything changed. My roommate went home for the semester, and the weather shifted from sunny to grey. Fall to winter. I worried and stressed about the upcoming days where I would be living alone. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how I was going to make BU feel like home again.
Spoiler alert, BU ended up feeling more like home than it ever had before by the end of the second semester.
Although I was living alone, I wasn’t technically alone. I always had Pablo at my living room table with me. I know what you are all thinking: “it’s weird you named your plant and are referring to it as a person.” I’m not saying my plant is more than a plant. But when it’s winter outside and the leaves have fallen off the trees, any ounce of greenery is a magical sight to behold.
The semester continued, and I met wonderful people, embarked on new adventures and seized opportunities to get outside of the comfort zone I had always hidden in. I’m not going to lie, living alone is very difficult and sometimes very lonely. It forces you to reach out to friends and put yourself out there. I’ve realized when you get too comfortable being alone, you forget how wonderful it is to be around your loved ones. Being an extrovert, I am happiest and most energetic when around my friends and family, which forced me to take initiative, so I was constantly surrounded by people and their beautiful energies.
The semester went on, and Pablo watched the seasons go by, watching over me at my living room table until it was time for me to go back home to Florida. Pablo went to my godmother’s house, and her children watched over him until his time came to go. I received a photo by text with Pablo in his broken state, and I knew at that moment it was time to let go of all the difficult and rough parts of my second semester. Pablo’s passing made me realize it was time to move on and stop reliving that second semester, thinking of what could have been or what went wrong.
I moved into my apartment on Bay State Road with my roommate Sam for my Fall semester, embarking on new adventures and opportunities with an optimistic mindset. This time, I bought a new succulent with three plants in one. I named one Evangeline, my little sister named one Schmidty after “New Girl” and Sam named one Frankie. Our succulent sits in front of our window, looking out into the world.
At first, I was scared and nervous to embark on the Fall semester. But as the summer went on, my mindset continued to grow in the best way possible. I learned to let go of what was hurting me and embrace the new. I opened my heart and my mind to new possibilities and happiness in this beautiful city I call my second home. Now, I go on adventures with Sam and feel a sense of calmness and happiness. I bike to Trader Joe’s and wake up early to go to Orangetheory Fitness. I have an open heart and mind, and I laugh and continue to laugh. Sam and I have dance parties and sing in public. I am just happy.
You’re probably wondering why I chose to talk about my plant Pablo. Pablo represents the Spring semester, living alone and a mindset that was starting to become a little more negative than I wanted it to be. Losing Pablo represents my ability to move on and grow into the person I am today. I am continuing to grow. Getting a new plant doesn’t mean I don’t love the old plant, it just means I am ready to move on, grow and become the best version of myself with this beautiful and vibrant plant by my side.
