The Hibiscus In the Hallway

Back in 1963, when I had my first eye surgery, my dear friend Ann brought me one of her hibiscus plants. She had lived on St. Croix for many years, and having a heavy scientific background, took up breeding hibiscuses. The one she brought me was one that had survived both hurricane Hugo and the move to Florida. We were going to dye fabric the day it was about to open its first bloom at my house. We sat on the patio and watched it for the ten or fifteen minutes it took to unfurl its five golden petals and expose its deep deep red throat and long gold pistil.

Since then, I've moved to Tennessee and lost touch with Ann -- and since she was about ten years older than I, I've been afraid to ask old friends about her. But yesterday the hibiscus bloomed again -- a glorious flower, better than any in recent memory. It was my birthday -- and I was too busy to notice it. But the bloom reopened this morning. After all these years, it still cheers me on.