David is Dead

Nothing lasts forever

May his memory be a blessing.

Do not be alarmed if your husband, father, brother, or anyone close to you is named David. It is not to him I refer. If you are a David, and you are reading this, then you are not the reference in the title of this post. Dead things don’t read. I think. We can argue about the afterlife later.

My beloved airplant, my little buddy who sat on my desk and kept me company while I worked, passed away. He lived a long time for an airplant. I read all sorts of airplant websites on airplant care and tried to care for him to the best of my ability. Yet nothing lasts forever, and David Airplant has gone on to his eternal rest.

I buried him with dignity among some flowers on my stoop. He will return to the earth to make more plants grow next year.

I wrote here about the importance of having an airplant as a little friend to keep you company. I named my first one David, not after any particular David, but after all the amazing Davids in the world. (If you are just joining us, you may not know that I have a thing for Davids.)

But he’s gone to the next life. None of my religions believe in reincarnation, but I sometimes do, so perhaps I will imagine that he is reincarnated as an Israeli. If in some fifty years there is a new David who leads Israel and bears a slight resemblance to an airplant, you heard it here first.

Now I must buy a new airplant. They don’t cost much. I carefully consider my choice and see which one calls to me. “April/Katy/Rachel/Katherine (I have gone by many names), I want to sit on YOUR desk! Please take me home and make me your beloved airplant!” Like that.

He will get a new name. I think all my airplants will be boys cause, well, that’s how I roll.

I’ve actually already picked out his new name, but I won’t tell what it is while he is living.

Rest in peace David Airplant.

And to the other Davids or those who love Davids: stay strong, and don’t sit on my desk. Thanks.