Christmas in July, or Late Bloomer

Three years ago I bought a beautiful plant called a Christmas Cactus, so named because it blooms in time for that holiday, or thereabouts. It was blooming when I bought it, and then it never did again. Christmas came and went the next year, and the year after too, with nothing--no sign of anything resembling even the teeniest, tiniest hint of a bloom. It just sat there, with its plain green leaves, sort of funny-looking leaves at that. I moved it over here and then moved it over there, thinking it needed less light or more light, less heat or more cool air. Finally, a few months ago, I thought maybe it needed re-potting. But then I thought no, what it needed was throwing away.

I hated it. It mocked me, especially whenever I went to visit my friend Jackie and saw her goddam Christmas Cactus that seemed to bloom for all major holidays regardless of the season. I didn't bother to repot it, not wanting to waste perfectly good dirt, and instead stuck it out on the back porch and stopped watering it, hoping it would die of natural causes. Two weeks ago it perked up. Today it is glorious, in fact more beautiful than any of the other more compliant ones I had in the past that did what they were supposed to do right on schedule each December. I guess it's what they call a "late bloomer." Its very existence gives me hope that life holds more in store for me, making me think it might be time to send my newest novel, a work in progress, out for a round of rejections. Who knows, maybe I'm a late bloomer too.