The Albo in the Corner

There I was, alone in my car screaming, “MOVE! HURRY! I’M GOING TO BE LATE!!!”

I felt like I was in some bad remake of Tokyo Drift, weaving in and out of traffic like I was trying to outrun the cops, racing against the entire plant community to reach the end goal….. Pistils Nursery.

Whaaaat? For why though? Well, let me tell you. They had an entire totem of Albo sitting in their shop, waiting for the first person in line to come and get it. I’d been searching since the beginning of my plant journey for the ever-elusive baby I’d only seen on instagram and in other parts of the country. Never in my state, never in my town, never in this size.

So like I said, I was driving like a bat out of hell to get to this nursery and secure that package. I couldn’t find parking, it started to rain, I was late to getting there and just SURE that someone else had claimed it, but I would try anyway.

Walk in the door, look around and I don’t see it, I don’t see it, I don’t - OH MY GOD THERE IT IS! And there it was. Standing just over 4’ tall and lookin like a snack, my Albo. Price was lofty compared to what I’d spent on plants in the past, but I wasn’t passing this bitch up. No way, no how, for no one.

Ring me up, Scotty (or whoever has the power to take my money and give me the plant)!

I carted this beautiful beast, who was bigger than little ol’ me down three blocks, over two, lost my car, circle the block, found my car and realize….. I don’t drive an SUV. Doesn’t matter, I’m good at tetris. When I tell you I drove home with the steering wheel under my chin in order to fit that plant in the back seat, I MEAN IT. As manically as I drove to the store, I drove home twice as carefully. No corner was my friend, slamming on the breaks meant slamming my boobies on the horn (sorry, Portland), but who cares?! PRECIOUS CARGO, PEOPLE!

I’ll be honest, I didn’t know shit about Albos and was so happy to find an ALL WHITE LEAF hanging out in the back of the plant upon further inspection. I drooled over it and bragged about it until someone told me to put a cork in it… it’s not viable.

There was a space in the bedroom on Mr. RJ’s side of the bed that seemed the perfect place for him, in all his glory, to live out his variegated days, but it didn’t last long. He never grew, and what he did grow was increasingly more and more green….. reverted, fuck.

I moved him downstairs and hemmed and hawed over what to do. More light didn’t bring it back like others thought it would, fertilizer wasn’t the crack it was supposed to be, and still more green.

So I made the executive decision to stop being a little bitch and DO SOMETHING. I chopped, hacked, sweated, maybe shed a tear, called 9-1-1 for my heart attack, and prayed to the plant gods that it would grow back. That it would grow back white. I had just done the one thing I’d always been terrified to do, and I survived.

Longest story short: That bitch is now the most variegated monster of a monstera that I own. Not only did it come back, it came back HEAVY. Half moon leaves, 3/4 white marbled variegation, each leaf increasing in size more and more.

That monstera used to be something that made me worry, that made me sad, that made me doubt my plant caring abilities. I thought I had done something wrong to induce the reverting state it was in. But boy, oh, boy did I feel like a badass when my risk taking paid off.

Remember that life is like a reverted Albo, sometimes it starts looking bland and bleak, but all we have to do is hack away the parts that are leading us in the wrong, stale direction and focus more on where we could be if we took the leap and made the cut.

I am forever grateful to the Albo in the corner for teaching me about my own abilities, about trusting my instincts, and for making me patient. He couldn’t be more beautiful to me, an homage to my life’s work. He’s the constant reminder that I can do it, even if I’m afraid.