those small miracles

It’s those small miracles that keep me going.
The one enchantingly irridescent baby skink who lives somewhere near our cement steps and who somehow survived the snake who prowled the area not too long ago.
The new green growth at the tip of the one piece I broke off and stuck in dirt from the 35-year old cactus (inherited from a former lover who was moving) that I had carted along on my last four moves and finally chucked into the woods because I was sure it was dead.
The avocado plant I grew from a pit whose tips I had pinched back and thought I killed that is now sprouting two new branches.
My garden’s yellow pepper plants nipped early in the bud by deer? squirrels? now two feet tall and budding again.
My spunky chubby cat who comes when I call her, no matter where she is outside, and who continues to try to teach me her meowy language.
Life responds to patience and tenacity. So I order lily bulbs to plant in the fall, seeds to start indoors in winter.
My mother has two days of partial awareness, responding to both a visit to a priest staying briefly in the area who was a close friend of both parents and also to a visit from our cousins from Florida. And then she has two days of rummaging through her closets taking out all of her clothes, forgetting who we are, wandering around her three small rooms looking for ……. something. First she’s cold and puts on layers of blouses. Then she’s hot and tries to take off all of her clothes.
We have eaten the last of the tomatoes that I was able to salvage from the beleaguered plants. They were deliciously satisfying small miracles. I am awaiting the blooming of the resurrected peppers.
I have always been tenacious. Now, I am learning patience. A small miracle.

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