Tree In A Trash Can

What I SHOULD be doing right now is writing a paper for my Communication Law class, but of course I couldn't concentrate - too much on my mind; thus, this post. I am anxious for school to be done. I like learning, but I can see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, and it's starting to make me a bit antsy. Four more classes and I will be the proud owner of a Bachelor's of Science degree in Communications. It's a pivotal accomplishment in my life, but right now the only way I can frame it is "one more thing off the To-Do list..."

I woke up early this morning - when I procrastinate doing homework till the very last minute I find that my brain processes better (by "early" I mean 5 o'clock in the morning). Someone told me recently that it's because you are less likely to be weighed down by the stresses of the day, distractions, etc. I guess that makes sense. I DO seem to get more done; the house is quiet, the dogs - after some intial excitement - have gone back to bed, my son hasn't yet woken up for school, my phone's not ringing... yes, I can see why I can get things done, now that I think about it.

My house remodel is almost completed, speaking of things off the To-Do list. Not that I am directly involved in the actual "doing" of it, mind you, but it is an emotional consideration which uses up some of my energy. I am one bathroom away from having a 'new' home. I can already see it taking shape around me - it's beautiful, and much different than what it used to look like - although I am not quite settled in it yet. It's like my new life - I feel uneasy, unsettled. Early on in the remodel (when we were still in the demolition stage) it was necessary to dig up one of the palm trees in my backyard. The footprint of one of the rooms that was being rebuilt would now cover the space where the tree was... so in the process this tree was dug up out of the ground and temporarily placed in a rubber trash can, where it awaits its new location in my backyard. I have the perfect spot in mind: the far corner of my formerly-brick-patio-now-garden. (An aside: the former occupant of the house - a friend of mine - laid out a literal ton of bricks to create this patio area; I removed some of the bricks to create an interesting design, exposing the dirt underneath so I can now plant tomatoes, herbs, whatever strikes my fancy.)

Back to my tree. The tree itself is fairly young, though stands maybe ten feet tall. When the tree was put in that trash can it was green; its palm fronds spread out like a long-lost relative, extending her arms to give you a big hug. Four months later, the tree is still green in spots, but the majority of it is more on the brown and crunchy side. I feel guilty when I go out in the backyard and it catches my eye; it's up to me to replant it so it can continue on with its life - instead, I hear it screaming in my head. It's dying... but very, very slowly. I don't know if the tree realizes it, but that's what I think about every time I see it. Another deadline I am procrastinating... there's just so much to do! The tree can wait, right? It's just a TREE after all... then why do I feel so goddamned depressed about it?

Before you think I am the most horrible and lazy person in the world, I think it's important to note that the corner of my future garden - the spot for which the tree is intended - has about two feet of subterraneous concrete in it that has to be broken up and removed before the tree can be put there. Talk about challenges. My contractor lent me the concrete-busting tool for the weekend, and Friday afternoon I spent two solid hours bent over the hole, pulling out concrete chunks, all the while re-thinking my tree-planting strategy. But now, it's a mission. The tree MUST go in that spot. I don't care how hard it is, or how many hours it takes, or how many blisters I get. Because if I can't put the tree in THAT spot, then whether the tree lives or dies is meaningless to me. I realize that even if I successfully replant the tree it might still die from the shock of being transplanted. But that's a chance I am willing to take.

I can see it in my head: a future where my tree is back in the ground, once again green and spreading its arms out to welcome me. I just hope I can get it out of my head and create that future for real. The tree hopes that as well.