Abe

A few days after I went to Home Depot and bought the most bedraggled ficus tree I could find - I'm always one for a project and I guess I've just seen "Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown" too many times. I had a hard time getting him to the checkout and into the car. His top hung out the sunroof and I laughed, amazed at the little tree's fortitude in holding onto the thin leaves that grew from his top branches. They were all intact when we arrived home and I hauled him up three flights to my bedroom. His name is Abe and he's been hanging in there ever since. He enjoys the outdoors during the summer, flourishing and adding new leaves daily, and this winter he'll be living in the new blue guest room, near the window, of course. He's still a bit odd-shaped and he's never filled out completely. One side is still strangely bare, but that's the side that goes to the wall, anyway. He's my dear and if all my plants mysteriously died (heaven forbid), he'd be the one I'd mourn.

He was named for Abe Zelmanowitz. And every time I think of Abe the Tree, I think of Abe the Person and smile. He was a good egg and I look forward to hugging him someday. Until then, I'll hold tight to Abe the Tree.