Maybe We're the Nutgrass

Yesterday was one of those bad news kind of days, the kind of days that seem to happen more and more as the economy gets worse. A friend of mine told me about how her significant other had just lost a job, something that is, unfortunately becoming a common experience. And I shared with her how my house was just foreclosed, something also a bit too common these days.

It was good to talk, although we both know we were just trying to hold it together. I had been crying in my office earlier that day when I found out that, yes, Bank of America refused the short sale option my realtor was pushing for. And I cried later when I found out that they had actually foreclosed on the house.

I think the main reason for the tears was that I felt like a failure; I had been trying to work this thing out as much as I could to avoid this ending. But now I felt like Hester Prynne, but instead of the scarlet A, I wore a black F - both for foreclosure and for failure.

But that evening, as I cried to my own significant other (who told me I may as well cry for Booth shooting Lincoln - it's over and done with; may seem like harsh words, but this is why I love the man), I had to look at the whole situation. Here is my guy, who is out of work and has been for over a year, telling me, the person who just lost her house to the bank, to buck up. And this after our conversation about my friend who had also informed me that she and her spouse are taking a more accepting view of their situation.

I thought about this again this morning as I watered the plants. I grumbled about the fact that we haven't had rain for days, and the grass and flowers are just drying up. And yet, there was the nutgrass, growing like its the Amazon rainforest. My guy has said the same thing - he can't get the grass to grow, but the nutgrass is thriving.

As first, I felt like those tender shoots and the fragile flowers. Without someone to tend to them, they would wither away. And then I realized, no, I'm not withering. Neither is my friend. And neither is my guy. We're not the fragile plants; we're the nutgrass that continues to thrive, no matter what. We will make it through this. Check with me in a year or two - I'll still be here.