Relationship

I got home from work last week and found my dill plant keeled over, drooping down the side of the pot, limp, looking nearly lifeless.

I didn’t know if he could come back from that.

But I gave him water, lots of water, and checked on him neurotically the rest of the night.

By the time I fell asleep, he’d perked back up in the center, just a little.

And by the time I woke up the next morning, he was good as new — and speaking of, I’m pretty sure I even saw a few new sprouts.

So days later, I’m making chicken salad, and I go out to the balcony to collect some fresh dill, and I think about all of this.

How it’s nothing particularly special, what I did. Even an amateur knows how to spot + cure dehydration.

That’s not what I’m saying.

What I’m saying is, the joy in my body.

What I’m saying is, relationship makes a difference.

What I’m saying is, I swear to you my dill tastes better because of ours.

PS — the subtext here is dill in chicken salad is the shit. Plus if you like a kick, I’ve been enjoying a little momofuku chili crunch drizzle on my sammies lately too.