Pamela and the Patient Cactus

By Chuck Curatalo, New York.

“I’d better hurry!” said Pamela, dashing down the stairs. Her loose shoes clunketty-clunked down the wooden steps.

“Slow down,” said Mother. “And tie those shoes like a good first grader.”

“But Mom, I just cannot be late for school today. Miss Jones is teaching science. Science is about animals and other things,” she recited before gulping down her milk and dashing out to the bus stop.

“Today we will begin learning about plants,” said Miss Jones as she began the lesson. “Plants are living things—just like you and me. Let’s make a collection of plants for our Show and Tell. Then we can learn how they live and grow.”

“But Miss Jones, how can a plant be like us? It does not have a mouth and a nose.”

Miss Jones laughed. “Be patient. We will soon find out. But for now, be patient.

“Patient?” What does that mean?” wondered Pamela, dashing for her lunch box.

The next day Mr. Smith, the florist, led Pamela and her mother through a long greenhouse filled with plants of all sizes. Suddenly Pamela noticed a strange, funny-looking one with no leaves at all, just a short, fat, and fuzzy-looking stem. Pamela touched it. “Ouch!” she said. “It pinched me.”

“That’s a cactus plant,” said Mr. Smith. “You felt its needles.”

Pamela looked closer. “Why does it have needles?” she asked.

“Why don’t you take it to school and find out?” Mr. Smith answered. “This cactus is called a saguaro (sah-WAH-row). That’s only one of the many amazing things about it. But you must be very patient”—

“Oh, Mommy!” interrupted Pamela. “The kids won’t believe needles grow on plants.”

The next morning Pamela placed her cactus on the window ledge next to the bigger plants. “Can you see the needles?” Pamela asked her friend Bobby, holding a magnifying glass close to the plant.

“Wow!” said Bobby. “They look humongous.”

“You can touch them if you want,” said Pamela. “But be careful.”

“Ouch!” said Bobby. 

“I told you to be careful,” Pamela laughed.

Days went by but Pamela’s cactus did not seem to grow—no matter how much she watered it. “Oh, Mommy I’m afraid the boys and girls will start making fun of my little plant,” cried Pamela.

“The saguaro is growing. It’s just taking its time. It is not always in a big hurry like you,” said Mother. “When it does finally grow—something wonderful happens.”

“What is it, Mommy?” asked Pamela.

“Be patient, and you will, see?” she answered.

“Mommy, what does patient mean?”

“It means you must wait a long time for something to happen and you must not complain. The saguaro is waiting patiently for something amazing to happen!”

“O.K. Mommy,” answered Pamela, wiping her tears away.

Days went by and the cactus still did not seem to grow. But Pamela tried to be patient. “Are you growing?” she asked calmly.

One day Miss Jones showed the class a book about cactus plants. “My tiny cactus isn’t even in here,” said Pamela, as Miss Jones flipped the pages.

Then Miss Jones pointed to a giant cactus with huge, thick arms. “Now here’s a picture of what Pamela’s cactus will someday look like”—

“It looks like a giant fork!” interrupted Bobby.

Everyone laughed, except Pamela. “But Miss Jones, that can’t be a saguaro. It is so big!”

“Yes, it is very big, Pamela. It is 50 feet tall,” explained Miss Jones. She held up a ruler. “It takes 50 of these to reach its top. And it is a saguaro—just like your plant.”

“But why is that saguaro so big?” Pamela asked. “My saguaro has not grown at all. And it does not even have one teeny-tiny arm!”

Miss Jones smiled. “That’s because this 50-ft. saguaro is over 200 years old”—

“Two hundred years?” said Pamela. “Isn’t that a long, long time?”

“Yes, it is,” answered Miss Jones. “Your saguaro is only about six years old.”

“Six years old?” said Pamela. “I’m also six years old.”

Miss Jones smiled again. “Just think, boys and girls, it will take 25 years before Pamela’s saguaro is as tall as she is. But in 200 years it will be taller than our school. And can you believe this plant started from a seed as tiny as a period in this book?”

“A-maz-ing!” said Pamela. “That is why Mommy said the saguaro was patient. It takes time to grow. But when it grows, it grows!

“Indeed, it does, Pamela,” replied Miss Jones. “And it has lovely flowers that grow on the ends of its arms”—

“Miss Jones!” interrupted Bobby. “Can I make a hole in the roof so Pamela’s cactus can get really big?” Everyone had a good laugh.

That night Pamela had a wonderful dream…

While sitting on the window ledge, the cactus began to grow and grow. Before Pamela could count to ten, the cactus was as tall as she. Before she could count to 20, it was peeking through the hole Bobby Briggs had made in the roof. And it kept on growing—up past the big oak tree on the busy school playground.

Then the giant sprouted mighty arms that stretched out and out. They started to bend—straight up to the sky! Pretty flowers with white petals and golden centers began blooming on each tip.

By the time Pamela could count to 30, the giant began shedding its petals. They went dancing and swirling in the air like giant snowflakes. The children ran around and around, trying to catch them.

Not long after her dream ended, Pamela heard Mother’s knock. “Time to get up, Sweetheart.”

“Wow! What a dream!” said Pamela, tossing her covers. She knew it would take a long, long time for her cactus to grow big and strong. “I’ll just have to be patient—like my saguaro!” she decided, taking the time to tie her shoelaces before going down the stairs.

By Chuck Curatalo, New York. Mr. Curatalo retired after teaching for 33 years. He instilled an appreciation for other cultures of the world in his elementary grade students. He has been also interested in teaching children about the wonders of the Southwest. He is a collector of Hopi Kachina dolls and has toured many historic pueblos. He is a published author.