More Than a Tree

The plans were made once again for the seven cousins to meet at 9 o’clock on Sunday morning at their great-grandparents family tree farm. The little cousins, their parents, and grandparents all met for coffee and endless donut holes in the warmth of the house before heading out to the fields to find that just right tree. We were there early enough to have the farm to ourselves so the youngest could enjoy hide and seek among the evergreens without worry. 

Amidst the counting and squeals of “here I come,” I paused to take in the moment. I looked around to see the rows of trees, planted and groomed by my father-in-law, with the help of all of us at one time or another. I recalled the wet soggy days in May where we knelt in the damp soil to plant seedlings, making sure each one was standing straight and tall.  We covered ourselves with sunscreen to avoid poison ivy on the bare wrists, where the gloves and long-sleeved shirts meet. Our day ended with a delicious hot lunch made and served by mother-in-law, who was always grateful for the assistance setting out 500 or more trees.  Transplanting those saplings was hard yet satisfying work.  We labored knowing that each little stem placed in the ground would yield joy to a family some ten years later. 

I see you! 

I was brought back to reality with the joyful voices and surrounded by the rows of our labor.  I admired the view, the laughter, and the memories made, and still yet to be made.  We continued along the grounds looking for that one tree that spoke to us, that one tree that was lovingly groomed and tended by the family patriarch. We walked as a family sharing more than a moment, rather we were sharing a life of family love and tradition. 

It truly is more than a tree.

My father-in-law helping me carry my chosen tree

 

It’s Tuesday and I’m sharing my slice of life story with the writing community over at Two Writing Teachers. Take a peek and consider joining in!