If You Have This Plant At Home, You Have A Treasure… (2 of 2)

I couldn’t shake the thought: had my grandmother always known? She never spoke in scientific terms, but she’d guard that plant like it was part of the family. If a leaf snapped, she’d press it flat in a little notebook as if archiving history. When I was a child, I thought it was superstition. Now, I realized it was devotion.

The real shock came a week later, when a stranger left a note under my door. No signature. Just a scribbled line: If you’re ready to sell, name your price. My chest tightened. How did they even know about it? I remembered my neighbor’s eyes, darting nervously when she saw the plant. I pulled the curtains closed.

Suddenly, I saw aloe everywhere—shelves of gels in pharmacies, glossy pictures in health magazines, beauty ads promising eternal youth. And yet, none of them felt as real as the living thing sitting in my kitchen, its leaves stretching wider each day, roots gripping tighter like they had a secret to keep.

I found myself standing over it at midnight, running my hand across its cool surface. Was this really just a plant? Or was it, in some strange way, the last message my grandmother had left me—a reminder that sometimes treasure doesn’t glitter. Sometimes it grows quietly, right under your nose, waiting for the moment you finally understand its worth.

If you have this plant at home, look again. Don’t let its ordinary appearance fool you. What it carries inside has been called healing, fortune, even sacred. And if strangers start asking questions… you may realize too late that what you thought was decoration was, in truth, a treasure people are willing to fight for…