Luck of the Irish

This is a story about a clover plant I've had since Rob's birthday (St. Patrick's Day.) It flourished for the first few months before it slowly started losing clovers, to the point it got down to just 4 or 5 of them. As one of them would die off, miraculously a little sprout or two would pop out of the dirt just in time to replace it. This has gone on for over two years now. This plant has come back from the brink so many times I've lost count, including surviving little bugs tiny bugs I discovered once living in its soil. Then, a couple of months ago it got down to just one clover. As it started to die, I was sure a couple more sprouts would pop up. But they never did. I waited a long time before finally, sadly, pulling the last wilted clover from the dirt. This left the pot completely bloomless for the first time ever. For several weeks I just looked at the dirt everday, hoping for a miracle. I even moved it to a new spot hoping to improve its chances. But nothing. I stopped checking on it after a while, resigned to the fact that the clover plant and I had had a pretty good run. It sounds silly I know, but by now it had become about so much more than the plant. Last week while I was on the phone with Susie, hearing about the latest news from the Dr. that Rob's bone marrow was normal and he was only Stage 2 with a high survival rate, I happen to look over at the windowsill...and saw this little sprout.

You've got the luck of the Irish Rob...and so much more. I look forward to celebrating many more of your birthdays with you, which is after all, as you like to say...a national holiday.

Love,
Rudy