An Unequal Seeming Inheritance
On the day the will was read, everything proceeded with an almost cold efficiency. The statements were clear, the figures precise. My half-sister inherited the family home, the savings, all that one instinctively associates with a life of work and responsibility. When the lawyer turned to me, I sensed a small but real hesitation.
My inheritance fit in a pot.
A cactus. The one that always sat by my father’s window, slightly bent toward the light, a bit crooked, but incredibly resilient. My half-sister gave an amused smile. She had children, plans, a busy life. I, at 42, independent and self-sufficient, could certainly leave with a plant.
I said nothing. I simply took the cactus and went home, holding it as if it were something fragile, almost precious.
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