A story about five tiny seeds

Once upon a time, way back in 1996, a young woman planted five seeds. Five Bird of Paradise seeds, of which three germinated and produced seedlings. She promptly gifted one plant to another – who killed it by over watering. So, two young plants remained. She cared and nurtured those two plants for many years in the hope that they would bloom, producing the most gorgeous tropical flower she’d ever seen.
 
Now, the young woman owned cats, who were not supposed to go near the Bird of Paradise plants due to the plants' toxicity, should a leaf or stalk be eaten or mouthed. But the cats couldn’t resist. The cats were naughty. They frequently launched themselves at the plants' giant stalks and leaves while chasing flies at the window or during enthusiastic games of ball or cat-chase.
 
The result was the two Bird of Paradise plants had a hard tough life competing with the energy of playful cats. Five cats, in total. The result was broken stalks, clawed leaves and the endless removal of new growth ruined by the felines. Sadly, over time one plant succumb to the trauma and died. One Bird of Paradise plant remained. 
 
Despite the woman's best efforts that single plant never retained more than four leaves, on one occasion she was cut back to a single stalk - until Moses, the fifth cat arrived in 2019. Moses was a gentle soul. Moses preferred to rest than run. Fly catching, ball chasing and destroying houseplants was never his thing. In the five years that the woman had Moses, the precious Bird of Paradise plant had chance to grow healthy and strong. The woman watched in amazement as her plant produced and sustained five, six … seven healthy leaves. 
 
The appearance of each unfurling leaf became a mini celebration in her home. Each new leaf became a sign of hope for the future. The possibility that 'one day' what was planted in 1996 might become a reality.
 
Today, that thirty year old plant has 10 leaves … plus, two very strange stalks! Yes, I know! I can hardly bring myself to believe that 'something' is actually occurring. I daren’t type the words I wish to type for fear of jinxing my beautiful plant. Oh yeah, that young woman was moi! Could 2026 be the year when something spectacular happens to my precious plant after 30 years of nurturing? 
 
I’ll keep you updated. If the strange stalks turnout to be two incredibly large new leaves, then I’ll celebrate as usual but … they don’t look like leaves to me. Such a pity my beautiful boy Moses isn’t here to enjoy what he allowed to grow.