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Dear Poinsettia Plant,

There are a lot of things I do in this life that I should feel bad about — but don't. So why is it that YOU always manage to make me feel so guilty?

But first. A little backstory.

It's the same song and dance routine every year. As soon as the Thanksgiving dishes are cleared from the table, I'm all YAY! IT'S POINSETTIA TIME! Your kind has already started showing up in grocery stores everywhere, and I can hardly wait to bring you home because you're just so festive-looking. You're one of those houseplants who totally takes the party with you wherever you go, unlike your stodgy philodendron cousins, who are just no fun at all.

The good times with you start during the selection process because there's a lot of awesome choosing involved where you're concerned. What color of poinsettia do I want this Christmas? Red? Maroon? Pink? Ivory? Pale green? Acid-washed? And what size of plant do I want? The normal size that you buy at the grocery store? Or do I want to go to the Costco and purchase a plant so HUGE I have to buy a bigger house, then rent a moving van just to get the poinsettia shrub home because you know how the Costco is. Everything there is larger than life.

Anyway. The choosing part where you're involved is always good times. And when I finally set you on the coffee table in our living room, you really turn on the charm and put on a dazzling holiday show for one and all. You're just all #lookatme #iamthecutestplantintheroom!

But you know how it its. Christmas comes. Christmas goes. And because you're actually a child of warmer climes, you and your pizazz-pizazz begin to flounder in Utah's cold months. The truth is you weren't built for snow and ice and harsh canyon breezes. No. You were built for beaches where people spend the winter sitting under cabanas and sipping mojitos.

So how do you respond to our unfriendly post-Christmas season weather? You drop a red leaf here and a green leaf there while the other leaves go fetal on us, curling up in a corner and sucking their thumbs.

Still. You hang on. The life force is strong in you. That's why my guilt kicks in, because here's the thing. I know that in spite of your efforts to cling to life, I am eventually going to toss you into the garbage can. So long. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen. Goodbye.

AND WHY DOES THIS MAKE ME FEEL SO GUILTY?

Listen here, poinsettia plant. When January hits, people all over America toss out your kind without giving it a second thought. But me? I feel bad about it. I even get online and see if there's anyway I can keep you around for next Christmas. And here's what I've discovered — it's tricky. In fact, if we were on Facebook together, I'd have to say being in a relationship with you is complicated.

I'd have to be vigilant about temperature and location, and when autumn comes, I'd had to put a box over your head for twelve hours a day to make sure you don't get any light. And because I know that I wouldn't put a box over my own head for twelve hours a day — EVEN IF MY LIFE DEPENDED ON IT — I'm not going to do it for you.

So I'm gonna quit you, poinsettia plant. Today, in fact. That's why I've stopped making eye contact with you whenever I walk into the living room. I know how this story ends.

Meanwhile, thanks for the memories.

Yours truly,

Ann Cannon

Ann Cannon can be reached at acannon@sltrib.com or facebook.com/anncannontrib.