Our last house was never our FOREVER house. We made it our home, but I always stopped shy. For example, I never bought a return address stamp. Why? We’d have to replace it one day. It felt wasteful. Sure, the ink would have run out by the time we sold, but it still felt wrong. I never did a growth chart on the wall, because one day I’d have to part with it. It seemed too much to handle. The next house was going to be our FOREVER home. Or at least the one we let our roots cling to. The one we’d make an effort with all our neighbors. The one we’d mark up the walls and try to carve the numbers free the day we say good-bye.
Before the ink was dry on this house, I bought a return address stamp. I’ve used it maybe three times because who sends mail? But we have a return address stamp.
Tonight, we dug a hole and planted a tree. It wasn’t planned, but it feels like a FOREVER house kind of thing. It also feels like something my Ma would’ve forced us do, so naturally it feels cheesy. However this is no cheesy tree, People. It’s full of badass lore.
Forgive me if the details are wrong, but most folklore is sprinkled with drama. My neighbors, who are full to the top with awesomeness, were at Johnny Cash’s house. I’m not sure if it had burnt down or if it burnt down the following week. Anyway… They spotted three trees and decided they could give them a better home. So they went to work and started digging and stashing. Drove them back North and brought a little bit of Cash to central Ohio.
Today, she came over with a tree in her hands.
We dug a hole and I forced the boys to sit in front of it.
It’s exactly what people do in their FOREVER homes. And I said a prayer:
Please don’t let me kill your tree. Help it live, ok? I’m not good at this kind of thing.
Becks wanted to name it. So we named it Sue.
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Forever home cheesiness.