Last year, for Henry's birthday, we planted a peach tree.
I had decided, when I thought Henry would actually see his first birthday, that that's what Brian and I would give him as a birthday present. He didn't need toys or clothes, and the tree would grow and hopefully bear fruit that we could all enjoy. We already had one peach tree, one that had been given to us as a wedding present, and I thought we'd start a little family orchard.
After Henry died, I decided I'd still plant his tree. It was something I could do for his birthday, something we'd have for him.
Maybe it will bear fruit.
Maybe the squirrels won't
Maybe Brian and I will taste sweetness from a tree planted in bitterness.
I noticed the other day that Henry's peach tree is in bloom. How beautiful and bright and hopeful on this gray, rainy day.
Later, the sky remains gloomy gray, but somewhere the sun keeps peeping out, so it is bright off and on. And as I sat on the porch with Kathleen, a cardinal flew onto my neighbor's porch, sat for us briefly and then flew away. My Henry smile for the day.