When the Christmas cactus blooms again, I know

that I have lived another year, that I have gained a new newness of knowing, that my good fortune is absolute.  And so, two weeks ago, the first of those pink buds, and, today, this full outcropping of a bloom.



Someday soon I will write about what I have learned this year—about people, about passion, about what can be trusted, what must be.  For now, on this day, I simply give you this flowering of hope, this nearly fluorescent gratitude.



Happy Thanksgiving.