What would I do without her?  Where would I be?

I was referred to her, at the end of being referred to so many other places and being sent away.  I felt disposable.  I felt The Boy was disposable.

She told me she would be there until I didn’t need her any more.  I didn’t believe her.

I fought her, and she was still there.
I cursed at her, and she was still there.
I cancelled at the last minute, and she was still there.
I called her, desperate for help, and she was still there.
I used her as a sounding board, and she was still there.

In the beginning I saw her once a week.  Now, months pass.  I don’t need her as much, but she is still there.

She asked me once why I kept coming back.  Looking back I know it was because she was *my* plant pot.

Let us call her Marie.