Shrouded in the forest that is my room are all my past decisions and stories. Some are strong, having stuck by me for years, others died almost instantly even when I gave them all of my efforts. Some died at random after being healthy for months and others persevered through the hard months, living on. Staring at the 35 different plants I have acquired through my life reminds me of my past growths and failures.

I particularly liked a plant called pothos, it had many different variations such as golden, neon, or jade; I didn’t care, I loved them all. I was astonished by this plant. It had rapid growing skills, shrouding my room faster than most of the plants I owned. I searched everywhere to find more pothos; I spiraled into a massive debt trying to enable my addiction, buying more from greenhouses, farmers markets, and even garage sales.

 I bought my first pothos from a farmers market and took care of it with every skill I possessed. However, unfortunate circumstances came into play, with the changing seasons, bugs, and climate, my favorite plant became plagued with a sickness I couldn’t treat. Day by day my towering pothos shrank. It began to blotch with yellow spots on its once healthy green leaves, over time shriving down into crisp, brown pieces of nature. Even with all my effort, my once large pothos plant became unrecognizably small. This hurt my ego. Were my skills not good enough? Was this all my fault? It felt like the one hobby I thought I mastered was withering away right in front of my eyes. I could have just sighed, thrown my plant away, and moved on with my life, but I refused. One inconvenience was not going to be the determining factor on a long-living hobby of mine. I wanted to grow my passion, not let it wither and die. Determination overtook me as I cultivated a way to grow my own plants. I harvested a few green, healthy cuttings remaining at the bottom of my sickly plant, and stuck them in a mason jar filled with water. I gave these cuttings large amounts of water and UV until their bases expanded into curling stems. I planted the intertwined stems together in a small plastic cup in hope of any result of growth. Unexpectedly the sprouts flourished into a colossal plant, spiraling down the top of my hanging chair and sprawling over my large built bookshelf in attempts to overgrow my room. I was proud of what I had grown with little experience and knowledge. I took many more samples from my new plants growing and nourishing a large, booming family of pothos. As my first plant finally shriveled up its descendents began to bloom. 

I put my time and effort into growing and creating this bloodline of plants. While growing them, I realized that I was growing too. I was indulging in my love for science in my own free time. Learning and experiencing the growth of life established my connection with nature. The loss of one plant wasn’t the worst tragedy that could happen to me, however, it truly resembled my commitment to what I love and my refusal to fail. Through my losses and failures emerged a flourishing lesson: my future actions can transform my failures into success if my passion perseveres. Perseverance sprouted my passion for botany.