(In memory of the late, great Nell Lester)

Of all the things you gave me as a child—
as Girl Scout troop leader, purveyor
of my favorite tuna and noodles,
oh, and not incidentally, mom to the girl
next door, my first/forever best friend—
I am gobsmacked by your plants
that have come to live at my house.

Your only child bequeathed them
to me after your passage into mystery.
She, who lives with a plant-eating cat,
could not house your indoor beauties.
I trundled home a dozen that had lived
with you for who knows how long,
determined to let them summer on
my deck and winter indoors.

And look—your Christmas cactus—
the sprawling, pinky white one—
is blooming its fool head off on time,
Right Before Christmas, which feels,
honestly, miraculous, if also a bit
show-offy.

And though you, in all your modesty,
would likely point out that you have
nothing to do with the timing of such
glorious blossoms, I am here to say—
as we often did as kids—Nuh uh.

Because, I figure, you must be in
the Heavenly Blooming Department,
green thumb gardener that you were.

And while I am an enthusiastic amateur
at best, I take my position seriously as
Apprentice Plant Tender Here on Earth,
knowing that these cotton candy blossoms
festooning your cactus in the darkest
part of the year is truly grace in action.

So I hope that all of you up there in
the Heavenly Blooming Department
hear my joyous exclamations and
delighted applause for this bit of
Christmas floral transcendence,
a job so very well done.

•••

(With love and gratitude to Sue Lester for sharing her mom with the girls next door.)