I have this thing I like to do. I like to plant a tree any time something substantial happens in my world so that I can remember it. I can look at the tree and remember how small it was when it was planted and how large it is now and how much time has gone past. I planted a tree when each child was born, I planted a tree when my husband's father died, you get the idea.
Well, a couple of years ago a little maple came up naturally in the flower bed at my old house. It was about chest high and I wouldn't dream of just pulling it. I had my dear friend "Mr. Tim" as my children affectionately call him to dig it up and plant it over by my deck so that some day it would provide shade for future cookouts. Well, that was when I thought I would be living in that house forever. I love that house. It is where I brought my babies home, I lived there for 12 years. It is home.
So, about 6 months ago when we came upon the opportunity to live closer to our lives we made the difficult decision to move. This decision meant leaving my son's now extremely large river birch and my daughters beautiful flowering cherry it made me sick. Saturday I got a call from Mr. Tim. He had gone by my old house and dug up my tree that I saved. It's okay we still own the house. It is now about 8 feet tall. He came to my new house and planted it in a location that will someday provide shade to my driveway. I am calling it Gracemont, and it makes me so happy. I love that I got to bring a piece of the old with me to the new. I love that I will be able to watch it grow. I love that even though life goes on and things change there are some constants. Mine today is a tree, a beautiful little tree.
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