The other days as I was getting in my car, after a long day of unfruitful government office appointments, I noticed something I had not seen in tons of years.

A “Morivivi” plant., which literally means “Die and Live”.

I remember when I was a kid and I came to Puerto Rico for my summer vacations, my cousins and I would constantly play with these plants. They were all over my grandmother’s yard.

The peculiarity of these plants is that with only one touch, they would close up, only to open back up later.

My cousins would trample on these poor things, almost torturing them.

I remember my amazement. I would, contrary to my cousins, delicately touch them with the tips of my fingers and squeal in delightment when I would visit them later on to see them open up again.

Sometimes I feel like a Morivivi, constantly being trampled on by feet that couldn’t care less; opening up to quickly be shut down again.

And I stared at the plant, with all those memories gushing in. For a moment I felt so compelled to touch it, for ol’ times sake, but I let it be.

Cuz, jeez, every once in a while, we all deserve to be open.