My husband and I never imagined we’d move back in with my parents a year after our wedding.
The choice was a practical one, and we knew it would be a temporary, six-month to one-year stint. Our goal was to save money to buy a home, and with rent prices climbing in London, pooling resources under one roof made the most sense.
Emotionally, though, it stung a bit. After renting a flat together for seven years, the move felt like a step backward: Just as we were beginning our lives as newlyweds, the independence we’d worked so hard to build had been put on hold.
Suddenly, we were moving out of our North London abode and back into my childhood home on the outskirts of the city. One small comfort we carried with us — quite literally — was our ever-growing indoor plant collection.
Taking care of the trailing vines and leafy stems helped me feel a sense of responsibility and comfort when I needed it most. The cherry on top was when it became something I could share with my parents, too.
My plants helped create a sense of routine and got me through our early days and challenges
Plants had made our flat feel like a home. So, although we sold the vast majority of our belongings and put the rest in storage, I couldn’t bear to lose the greenery.
Not only were they a beautiful reminder of the life my husband and I were building, but they helped me structure my days during an awkward time.
Every morning, I’d make coffee and walk around checking up on them before sitting down at my laptop.
The slow rhythm of plant care soothed me. In those first few weeks, so many things felt out of my control: I was applying to jobs, making budgeting spreadsheets, and scouring house listings online. We were essentially figuring out what our life would look like.
Nurturing plants, however, felt grounding. Successfully caring for them didn’t mean being perfect or having all the answers; all they needed from me was attention and steady consistency.
With time, as I watched them bounce back after the move, I started to recover, too.
I started sharing my passion with my mom, and we grew closer than ever
At first, the influx of plants overwhelmed my parents. “It’s like living in a jungle,” my dad joked early on, raising an eyebrow at a particularly large monstera and the overflowing windowsills.
Over the first few weeks, though, they came to love the plants, and caring for them became something I could share with my mom.
As she’d log on to work from home at the kitchen table, I’d make us morning coffee. While waiting for the kettle to boil, I’d inspect leaves or rotate pots for better light while we chatted.
These small, shared moments offered us a place to connect. From inconsequential chats about plant care came deeper conversations about marriage and aging, family and the future.
Without meaning to, we had created a daily ritual together, chatting vulnerably in a way we hadn’t in years.
Now, we’re getting ready to move into our dream home
Today, we’re finally starting to look for our dream home.
We’ve saved enough that it finally feels within reach. And as we plan our next chapter, we know that many of our plants will come with us — but not all of them.
My dad now jokes that we have to leave some behind, or the house will feel too empty. He even bought some herb plants from the grocery store to add to the collection.
When we finally do move, along with the plants, I’ll be bringing with us a newfound confidence in my own ability to find comfort and build a routine, even amid uncertainty and change.
Arguably, that’s the best thing that grew during my time at home.
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