Tenderly, she placed greens and blossoms
in the trunk of my hatchback;
Christmas Cactus, fairest of her children, in full dress.
Economic times moved warmth from her home
and preparations labored for a long move.
They would not weather travel,
limbs in darkness for days,
blossoms without her smile and tender caring caress.
My touch would differ.
Mother's thumb had been green from birth.
She could nurture the faintest life-sign
knowing the plant was able.
I remember the Sweet Potato when I was ten.
She cleverly sliced it at the base
fitting the bulbous mass with tooth picks
in a saucer of water.
It hung like a scientific experiment
in the bathroom window near the shower
until, what seemed like over-night,
green leaves flourished like a peacock tail in full spread.
It was an amazing adventure
with mother's soft smile accompanying my wide eyes.
I wanted to assure her I would do well
but she knew my tune sang differently
with a fast-paced corporate life,
children to rear, and dogs to feed.
-she knew it was a long shot
though her hand on my shoulder told me I'd do fine.
I remember closing the hatchback;
Christmas Cactus jiggling on the
long haul from Somerville to Plymouth.
It blooms each year in March.
I am still not sure why
but she giggles when we talk of it
she in her Colorado home
and me near the New England sea
wishing she had not moved quite so far.
Author notes
Inspiration from:
Douglas Goetsch
The Bulbs
for Lisa Denton
I wait in the U-Haul with the kids
while she, in my sister’s peasant skirt
and her brother’s parka, fishes
the beds with a busted trowel,
then her bare hands thrusting, pulling
dark knots from the cold ground.
Behind her, the torched house
where her mother drank herself
to death, where we lived
until it burned. The insurance
bastards, still investigating,
won’t even pay for a motel.
I honk—Come on! She stands
in the stiff wind, which sends
the charred stink of the place
over the town. She walks the lawn
looking—not quite down—almost
inside herself for where she planted.
The kids have mourned their
stuffed animals, didn’t even cry
when the neighbors looted, but
no way will she leave these bulbs,
which have made flowers in two houses,
on both sides of the Hudson.
Finally she comes to the truck,
the hem of her skirt
in her hand, cradling them.
She blinks back tears, climbs
in, slams the door, says
Get this goddamn thing moving.
Douglas Goetsch
A contest entry
- A Moment Like This by Rowan.
800 points, ended December 17, 2008, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 22 of 22
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OH! How this sparked some personal memories! I love every line of this piece...the way you so cleverly unfold the moment that holds such a special place in the heart. You truly do move the reader with your wonderful art.
An beautiful read as always~
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Thank you.
I am so pleased you enjoyed this one. Wonderful to see your comments and I hope we see more of you and your poetry from now on. Thank you. 
~Pamela 
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There is someting unequivocal about the beauty of a Christmas cactus in bloom. My mother loved them, too, and she had a huge plant rooted in a barrel in her 5th grade class room. It was an amazing mass of pink and dark green as it cascaded over the sides of the barrel with hundreds of blossoms, sometmes blooming in the spring, too. Maybe Christmas should have been in the spring...
The sentiment is so beautifuly penned with reminiscences and heartfelt nuances of your mother. It's the TLC, the healing energy of gentle hands and attention that make both plants and children thrive. They drink of the spirit and blossom soul...
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Thank you Karen. I am pleased for your comment here. Much much appreciated. ~Pamela
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My father was an avid gardener, and cherished his cuttings and seedlings and the Christmas cactus that came from his mother. My mother has it still.
Your poem has brought me memories too. Thanks for posting in the Garden.
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Thank you Margaret. I am so pleased you enjoyed this one. ~Pamela
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I don't have a stitch of green in my veins either, my plants have to be tough. I call them my lil survivors. They all look rather pathetic. lol.
I loved this moment. The potatoe with toothpicks took me back, my mom used to do that with avacados.
Excellent use of the prompt. Thanks so much for entering.
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Rowan
Thank you for placing my poem as a finalist and for such a wonderful and memorable contest. A pleasure to write for you. ~Pamela
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Awesome
Truly a wonderful write, enjoyable read.
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Thank you so much. ~Pamela
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This is really beautiful Pam one of your best it was touching lovely and in its own special way life affirming
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Jeff
Thank you so much my friend. I always appreciate your kind comments. Happy New Year.
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We think of those times long ago when we are older and ask ourselves whatever happened to those days. This poem dribbles with nostalgia. Good luck in the contest.
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Thank you so much. ~Pamela
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This is really very touching; I esp. loved the description of the scientific experiment in the shower - a poem with a lot of nurture power.
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ea
Always a pleasure to receive your comments. Thank you so much. ~Pamela
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this is beautiful .
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Thank you for your kind words. ~Pamela
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wow..
A fantastic and wonderfully told story..i felt as if i were there the whole time just looking in..
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Thank you my friend. So pleased you enjoyed this moment... ~Pamela
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Lovely poem. I can feel the connection between Mother and Daughter and the Cactus is the symbol.
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Thank you so much. I am pleased you enjoyed this one. ~Pamela
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