I once picked up a little tiny piece of cactus and brought it home with the intention of planting it. Those were busy days and I moved suddenly and lost track of it along the way.
Months later, cleaning out my closet and some boxes I’d never unpacked, I found that little tiny piece and it was no longer little and tiny. In my closet, unobserved by the human eye, it had grown three times the size it was when I’d lost track of it.
I planted it then and it flourished. Honestly, it’s probably some variety of weed cactus or something, but I admired its fortitude.
Recently, in the great freeze of Southern Texas my cactus, which was bigger than my head at this point (it was the size of my finger when I’d found it over a year ago) froze on my porch outside. I’d given it a couple of months to return, but alas, it was a goner.
Stuff is like that. I mean, things come and go. They grow in the dark while no one is watching and sometimes the light goes out when they are shining their brightest.
I’m not quite sure why I’m ruminating on this at the moment, but here I am. I love the growth I’m enjoying in the quiet where no one can see me at the moment. Maybe that’s it. Would my cactus still be thriving if it were a closet cactus? But was it grateful for the sun and passersby on my porch moreso than simply growing?
Meh. I don’t know. I’ve been inundated with signs from the Universe that I should start writing more often. So there, I did.
Enjoy the light. And the dark.