His name is Fedya. Don’t ask why—the name just popped into my head the moment I set the pot on the windowsill.

For now, Fedya seems perfectly content with life. He just stands there, reaching toward the light, completely unbothered by whether he’s being "productive" enough, whether he’s chosen the "right" direction for his growth, or whether he’s falling behind other plants.

Honestly, I kind of like his approach.

We humans even manage to turn relaxation into a competition. We feel the need to read more, earn more, travel more, and reach our goals faster. But then you look at a simple plant and realize: it’s just growing. It’s not in any rush to turn into a full-grown tree by next Tuesday.

Today, I’ve decided not to put Fedya through a "survival test"—and to give myself a bit of a break, too.

If we both still have our leaves a month from now, I’ll consider that a fantastic result. 😄