I have a new hobby, and at the same time it’s my new job. I’m a plant walker. Lavender, Rosemary, Geranium, Boxwood, or Aloe Vera. Yes, what you’re reading is true. I walk green plants with their pots. No leash, not necessary.
Plants like walks, they communicate with each other, or at least that’s what I want to believe. My neighbor Elena has given me two of her plants to walk. A thousand pesos per plant. A thirty-minute walk around 25 de Mayo Square and the Centro neighborhood. I water them with a bottle of mineral water because I’m a professional, and on our walks it’s hot. In Recreo it’s always hot, even in winter. I like to sing them songs by Los Enanitos Verdes because I think plants are like silent little dwarfs. They breathe, they relax, they escape the daily stress of their owners. They do photosynthesis. I only walk outdoor plants. You know, indoor ones could die and I don’t want to be responsible for that. I carry them in a small shopping cart. I greet the neighbors. Some of the plants have names. I recommend giving them names. They listen, I believe. I like walking them and feel it’s important for me and for the town. I’m no longer the shy guy. And my parents aren’t ashamed of me. At twenty-five, I’ve found my mission in the world. It’s not bad… Although this week I’ve walked twelve plants from different neighbors who kindly agreed to the experience, I feel something isn’t working. I asked my father if he could choose between being a human, an animal, or a plant, what he would choose. He answered that I should find an honest job, a life. And I knew my father was wrong.
I began to feel my mission was deeper, more individual and spiritual. I offered some pesos to my best friend Andrés to walk with me along with the plants. A test of his friendship and of my human condition. Andrés accepted. And I climbed into the shopping cart with the plants. Hugging my knees, I closed my eyes, motionless. I asked him please to pour a little water on me as we went through the streets. I wanted to feel what the plants felt. And I liked it. I liked it too much. But Andrés told me it was a bad idea, maybe because he’s married and expecting a child with his girlfriend. I couldn’t become a plant, that was the problem. I imagined myself in a pot, with my waist and feet covered by soil, my parents watering my hair and half my naked body, or throwing me out of the house. I told Andrés. He imagined it the same way I did. We laughed, a little confused about the possibilities of making it real. When the walk ended, Andrés left and I stayed alone, reflecting outside my house. I don’t remember if I cried, but I stayed there standing, and when I opened the door, I felt sleepy. And I lay down to sleep. It’s always like this.
Adult life.