on time

My neighbor Helen gave me this Christmas cactus shortly before she died.  I remember her for lots of things, including a stellar collection of embroidered handkerchiefs, but what has most stayed with me is how she watched my kids’ antics from her table at her kitchen window with a benevolent and amused gaze.

It’s a miracle to me how this plant knows to come to life the same week every year.  There’s a metaphor there, but more to the point it’s a lovely reminder to approach trouble (ball in the garden, brawl under the basketball hoop, crash on the tricycle)  with a graceful detachment  that simply says “life has its ups and downs and we need not get too caught up in it all.”

My own parents are like this, particularly my mother. This admirable quality is widely shared by her generation, who saw making or reacting to trouble as a self-indulgent exercise. They had better things to do.