Friday, January 30, 2015

The Burr Oak That Got Away


            I have never been a big plant gal.  Historically, if you gave me a plant and waited a couple of weeks, then you could depend on me killing it.  It wasn’t until October 24th, in 2013 when I finally met a baby plant that I could love.  I was on a tree retreat and we were gazing upon a massive Burr Oak in Benbrook.  I looked down and saw a ginormous acorn roughly the size of a doll’s head.  It was remarkable.  I picked it up and put it in my pocket.  It looked like I was carrying a tennis ball in my pants.  When I got home, I watered it and put it in a pot.  Like an expectant mother, I waited.  On the balcony, I watched it slowly grow inch by inch.  Then one day, it was raining quite a bit so I moved it outside.  I kept it there and would check on it.  I was so proud.
          I really believe that there is something sacred about a plant in a pot, because it takes human hands to get there.  You can infer that someone cares about that plant, which is why I was so shocked when someone stole my Burr Oak.  I came home from work on January 8th, at the beginning of this year and saw it was gone.  I froze.  When I got past the denial stage, then I started screaming.  It felt like someone was pushing a blunt butter knife into my heart.  I still am very angry.  I have decided that I will never love a plant again.
          If I thought that posting signs around the neighborhood would help, I would do it.  Sometimes I daydream about who took him.  Was he a tall adolescent from the inner city that likes to spend hours playing Minecraft?  Was she a short, bossy Girl Scout currently enrolled in middle school who saw my plant and mistakenly decided she could provide him a better home?  I can tell you this.  I will never ever steal someone’s plant because I know how it feels.