The Plant In My Office
By: Lindsay Kate Skinner LPC, NCC
I sit and watch as the sun comes up.
The morning light shines into the room.
There is the familiar smell of coffee as the one who tends to me waters my roots.
Then she pauses, takes a sip, looks out the window, and sighs.
It’s as if she is talking to me.
“I believe it’s time to open the doors.”
People enter, and the stories unfold.
There’s the lady whose son doesn’t speak to her, and the husband who just lost his wife.
The young couple who long for a baby, their tears filling the room as they cry.
There’s the man who speaks of his anxiety and his longing to let go of control.
As they leave, the one who tends to me takes a short stroll.
She fluffs the pillows, refreshes the tissues, and prepares the room. Then the next person enters.
This one is new.
I don’t remember her, but she watches me as she talks.
The words come out slowly. They are shaky and low, but I hear her say,
“I miss him so much.”
The one who tends to me doesn’t speak for a while. She simply sits with her in the room.
The silence feels loud in this space, but she seems to be unmoved. She doesn’t ask for the tears to stop or try to fix everything.
She simply leans in, looks her right in the eyes, and says,
“Tell me all about him.”
Then I hear stories of all her dad brought to her life… the good, the hard, and the funny.
At one point, they both join in with a laugh, and it’s good to see them happy.
As she leaves the room, I watch the one who tends to me sit very still, her eyes misting as she gazes outside.
It’s as if that story settled a little deeper within.
Then she is up again.
She chats in the hall. I hear others pass by. She makes a quick call to her husband and says,
“One more today, and then it’s goodbye.”
I’ve been with her now for many years, watching people come and go.
The one who tends to me still waters my roots, but age is changing her so.
The lines beside her eyes have gathered some, and she dresses in more color now.
These stories seem to have shaped her in ways that give her warmth and softness for now.
Some guests come for many visits.
Some I only see once.
They don’t grow all in one day, much like me.
For many, it is small changes over months.
She offers care and sits with them there, never forcing them to have growth.
I often wonder about the stories I’ve heard and the people who have passed through this room.
I like to think they are still growing.
Like me, and like the one who has cared for me all along.
For when someone leaves a story behind, I think a small piece of it stays with her.
Then she will return, as she always does with her coffee in hand and her watering can.
Then she will smile softly and say,
“I believe it’s time to open the doors.”
And the room will fill once more.
About the Author
Lindsay Kate Skinner is a dedicated professional at Apollo Counseling, where she combines her expertise in mental health with a genuine passion for supporting individuals on their journeys to well-being. Her approach emphasizes empathy and understanding, creating a safe space for clients to explore their thoughts and feelings. Lindsay Kate is committed to empowering those she works with, helping them to develop resilience and coping strategies that promote personal growth and healing. With a focus on holistic care, she strives to guide her clients toward achieving their goals and finding balance in their lives. Get Connected!
