I love having an orange tree, and especially I love having the orange tree that we have. It’s been through hard times, but somehow it survived.
When we first moved into our house, we were having some construction done, and the workers poured cement on it’s base. It all but died, but somehow green leaves poked through the next year, and each year after, it got a little healthier.
It wasn’t until last year, 10 years after the cement incident that it began to produce some fruit. It wasn’t a large crop, but there were some oranges nonetheless.
And now this…bright beautiful orange fists of triumph towering high into the sky impossible to reach. Their color against the blue sky are bright spots of cheery promise that there will be even a better crop of oranges next year.
I’ve been a nonexistent blogger lately. At first it all started because I was overwhelmed with final projects from my school alongside my children’s final semester work and not to mention Hanukkah which kept me busy both professionally and personally. And then…..unimaginable tragedy. One that is not for blogging at this time but has occupied all my thoughts. A tragedy that crippled my writing, because what could I possibly say to make it better?
Today, however, I pulled some of those oranges off of my beloved orange tree. They are ready for eating – the fruits of the labor ripe with life. They are such a representation of optimism that suddenly I was compelled to sit down with my old trusty friend and type some thoughts down for the first time in a long time.
The moral of the story is….if your are ever cemented into place, that cement will eventually be able to crumble and something new and good will be the result. Thank you little orange tree. I love you. Thank you for reminding me we all can survive.
