cactus

Among the row of plants on my bedroom windowsill is a cactus that has fallen to the floor on two occasions. Each time parts of it have broken away and now it sits, precarious and lop sided in its pot. I've always eyed it with a little sadness, remembering how it was, its potential and promise. My friend saw it last week and called it dramatic. Her clear vision has totally reframed how I look at my cactus, now I see its beauty rather than its missing parts. I've reflected upon this all week, and have observed my joy when gazing at this flourishing survivor. Words are so powerful, my response altered with a single one.