9 Jan 2014
We planted these olive trees not long after we brought her home. Muslin wrapped and quiet she smelled of marshmallow, cornstarch and new dreams. The air clung to us and the haze around was reminiscent of a Tuscan summer; as we chipped at the dry earth we hoped this would be an omen for their growth.
Yesterday she turned five and the trees bore fruit for the first time. And like with any birthday, nostalgic meandering was ever present. We watched baby videos together and laughed at her straight legged crawling and bubbling speech. Old friends were spied in the corners of photographs and melodic stories were told. Oh how that jet haired babe has grown.
It seems she has mirrored the growth of those olive trees. Quiet and slow one moment and after Spring rain all leggy and willowy. With gentle pruning, nourishment and care we have cajoled their branches and guided their growth but for the most part they have reached for the sky despite us. Ultimately they will choose their own form, as will she.
All we can do is love her - unconditionally, playfully, fiercely and wholeheartedly. And she will grow.