POETRY: The Cactus

I know this is going to sound like a sad metaphor

But it’s not a metaphor, it’s just sad

 

I just moved a plant from the windowsill

To water it

To help it grow

It needs so much more attention

Than my cactus

 

A tiny little cactus

Which I grew from a seed

Which was a stocking stuffer from my mom

Probably from The Dollar Store

 

She probably didn’t care whether it grew

Whether I even planted the seeds

She probably just wanted me to be happy

In the moment

 

But I planted the seeds

In a small cup

Not suitable for plants

And the cactus sprouted

In December

Against all odds

Because that’s what they do

 

The cactus kept growing

Even though sometimes I didn’t water it

For months on end

Even though the sunlight only visited that windowsill

A few hours a day

 

It grew skinny and lopsided

And I never moved it

To a larger cup

Or a bowl

Or a real planter

 

And still it kept growing

Next to the basil and mint

And the money plant

 

Today I watered the other plants

And returned them to the sill

And the greedy money plant

Broke off the cactus limb

 

I just blamed the plant

But I did it

It was an accident

But I did it

 

I didn’t even notice

Until minutes later

When I looked out the window

For inspiration

 

And saw instead

My carelessness

 

I buried the broken cactus finger

Back into the soil

In hopes that it can regrow roots

And survive

 

I hope the base

Where the limb snapped off

Can heal itself

And keep growing

 

In spite of me

And my carelessness

And inattention

 

Because my mom gave me those seeds

And now she’s gone

And it’s just a cactus I barely cared about

But now I care

 

I hope it’s not too late

To show it I care