My grandmother had an enormous plant known as a Christmas cactus. They are known to bloom once a year. December is a common time for the flowers to come out, hence the name.
Grandma gave a cutting to my mom.
The cutting that my mom had thrived. It didn’t know that it was supposed to bloom just annually and would occasionally burst into bloom throughout the year. My older sister inherited Grandma's plant which also seems to have a mind of its own.
Regardless of what was going on in the world or her personal life, mom would be joyful every time the plant bloomed. For her it was a signal of hope and positive energy. It was infectious and the entire family would somehow feel a lift.
Prior to Covid, and when my parents were still alive, I made sure to go home to Pittsburgh every four months or so; these visits were even more frequent as both my parents got older. Scoff if you like, but more often than not, the plant would flower right before my visits and stay that way for several weeks.
When mom died, my sister gave me a cutting of the plant. To say that I have not been very good at keeping plants alive is an understatement. Fortunately, Sandy has taken on the role of the plant tender. Historically he was no better at gardening than me, but after years of killing anything even remotely green, we now have an array of indoor plants that are flourishing under his care. The centerpiece is the offspring of the family plant. It has quadrupled in size since we have had it. I have given cuttings to my daughters.
This week it burst into flower. It magically fills me with a sense of optimism. I feel my mom’s presence.
Goodness, we all need hope and optimism more than ever after this year. Between the pandemic, the economy, the divisive politics, the climate woes, 2020 will be a year that most of us will be happy to see the last of.
We all have pandemic fatigue. Please hang in there. The cactus is blooming. We are almost in a new year. Things will be better.
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