WHAT I TREASURE

The birthday cactus by Kate Turton

For a milestone birthday, it wasn’t the most obvious of gifts. At first, I wondered why I was being offered an old-fashioned and ordinarylooking ceramic marmalade jar, and I very nearly pricked my hand on the spikes that only just poked out above the rim. Then I realised the gift was a living thing – a small, rounded cactus with some very sharp spines barely visible among tufts of white fluff. Although it didn’t look like much of an 18th birthday present, the hesitant smile on my boyfriend’s face as he presented it to me, secured my affection for it. The cactus then took pride of place on my bedroom shelf.

The boyfriend and I broke up a few months later. I sat my A levels, secured a place at uni, and left home with a few boxes of belongings and the cactus. Dad wasn’t keen to allow it in his car, fearing it would drop soil and spines on the carpet, but I placed it carefully on the floor by my feet and made sure it stayed upright for the entire 200 mile journey.

Nearly 25 years, a different boyfriend (now husband), two kids and two cats later, the cactus and I are still going strong. It has moved house with me seven times, although we spent six months apart when I took an overseas work placement, and the cactus had to move back in with my parents. Whether they cared for or neglected it, I don’t know, but the cactus made it through our mini separation seemingly unharmed.

Over the years, my little cactus has grown taller – now measuring 12cm to its topmost spine – but has flowered only once, when a single pink bud blossomed for less than a week. That was about 10 years ago and

I’ve not been able to encourage a repeat performance. I only know that the cactus likes a sunny spot by a kitchen window and most likely owes its longevity to an arid nature, as I seldom remember to water it.

Despite being a permanent fixture in our home, the cactus mostly goes unnoticed by the rest of the family. No one else feels any affection for it – the children think it’s too prickly and my husband considers it unattractive. (In fact, I think he’s tried to ‘lose’ it in a couple of the house moves.) But I like it and it’s here to stay.

Still in its original jar, the cactus reminds me of my journey. From the flush of first love, taking exams and leaving home; to meeting my life partner, setting up home and starting a family. The cactus has been with me through thick and thin, silently and assuredly resilient and adaptable – and reminding me that looks aren’t everything.

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