For years, the cactus sat on the my next door neighbor's sunny front porch. I never saw it bloom.
Come to think of it, I don't recall ever seeing any cactus in bloom.
My neighbor died a few years back, and her daughter gave me the cactus.
A year later I sold my house and moved. The cactus now sits in front of a big window here in my 9th-floor apartment. It gets full morning sun.
Two days ago, as I was watering the houseplants, I noticed two small bumps on the cactus, each about 1/4 inch long. By that night, the protrusions had nimbly grown to be about three inches long and looked like stalks. There was just the suggestion of something red at the tip of each stalk.
Yesterday morning, I woke up to find that the stalks had produced two delicate-pink flowers, as you see in the photograph above.
From two bumps to two beautiful flowers in 24 hours. I was impressed. It was really sort of joyful to see them throughout the day, reaching towards the sun, a delicate reminder of the cycle of life.
This morning, they were no more. The perfect flowers now drooped at the end of their stalks, closed and fading like breath on a mirror.
I had merely one day to appreciate their beauty. Then they were gone, presumably not to return for another year. It was a burst of glory for a few short hours, and then it was just a cactus again.
The story of the cactus flowers makes me feel wistful, makes me think about life cycles. It brings to mind traces of past brief joys. And it makes me wonder what the next will be.
Since I had no visitors yesterday, I was the only one to see the cactus flowers this year. Maybe next year I should spread the joy and have a cactus-flower party.
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