Mamaw's Cactus

It's funny how we put such significance on little things. We expect them to live up to these monumental roles we have given them, and when they don't measure up, we are angry. 

My Granddaddy's Lily
My Mamaw's Rose
My Mamaw's Cactus

Kept by me after their deaths not too long ago. It helps me and I feel like they are a part of me, and with me. I know it's silly to hold such stock in material things. I don't get to keep a lot, our house is almost museum quality clean. I do get to keep these things though.

Mamaw's Cactus is dying, and a picture fell over and crushed the rose I took from her casket. My uncle passed away right after and I didn't take a rose, just a picture. The rose rode around in my car for a couple of months, until I had my car cleaned, and then it came in. 

The succulent survived for a year. My Mamaw had the greenest thumb out of anyone. She had kept the succulents, the roses, and all the flowers alive for years.

As it wilts, it's petals turn mushy and wet falling off sadly in the little planter, I can't help but feel sad. The rose crushed, the cactus dying, but she lives on in my heart. I have some of her jewelry  and a Cameo to remind me of her. I water Granddaddy's lily everyday and it seems to appreciate that. 

You see what I mean. We put a lot of pressure on little things, at least I do, and expect them to live up to our expectations, only to be mad when they don't.