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"There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where
colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant
than ever again."
- - Elizabeth Lawrence
Justin was a climber. By one and a half, he had discovered the
purple plum tree in the backyard, and its friendly branches became
his favorite hangout. At first he would climb just a few feet
and make himself comfortable in the curve where the trunk met
the branches. Soon he was building himself a small fort and drag-ging
his tractors and trucks up to their new garage.
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One day when he was 2, Justin was playing in the
tree as usual. I turned my back to prune the rose bush, and he
disappeared. "Justin, where are you?" I hollered. His tiny voice
called back, "Up here, Mommy, picking all the plums for you!"
I looked up in horror and disbelief. There was Justin on the roof
of the house, filling his plastic bucket with the ripe juicy plums
from his favorite tree.
When Justin was 3, I became pregnant. My husband and I explained
to him that we were going to have another baby as a playmate for
him. He was very excited, kissed my tummy and said, "Hello, baby,
I'm your big brother, Justin."
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going to have a little sister, and every day he'd beg to know if
she was ready to play yet. When I explained that the baby wasn't
arriving until the end of June, he seemed confused. One day he asked,
"When is June, Mommy?" I realized I needed a better explanation;
how could a 3-year-old know what "June" meant? Just then, as Justin
climbed with his dog in his arms to the top of the plum tree, he
gave me the answer I was looking for...his special tree. |
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"Justin, the baby is going to be born when the plums are ripe.
You can keep me posted when that will be, okay?" I wasn't completely
sure if I was on target, but the gardener in me was confident
I'd be close enough. Oh, he was excited! Now Justin had a way
to know when his new baby sister would come to play. From that
moment on, he checked the old plum tree several times a day and
reported his findings to me. Of course, he was quite concerned
in November when all the leaves fell off the tree.
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By January, with the cold and the rains, he was truly worried
whether his baby would be cold and wet like his tree. He whispered
to my tummy that the tree was strong and that she (the baby) had
to be strong too, and make it through the winter.
By February a few purple leaves began to shoot forth, and his
excitement couldn't be contained. "My tree is growing, Mommy!
Pretty soon she'll have baby plums, and then I'll have my baby
sister."
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March brought the plum's beautiful tiny white flowers, and Justin
was overjoyed. "She's booming, Mommy!" he chattered, struggling
with the word "blooming." He rushed to kiss my tummy and got kicked
in the mouth. "The baby's moving, Mommy, she's booming, too. I
think she wants to come out and see the flowers."
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So it went for the next couple of months, as Justin checked every
detail of his precious plum and reported to me about the flowers
turning to tiny beads that would become plums. The rebirth of
his tree gave me ample opportunity to explain the development
of the fetus that was growing inside me. Sometimes I think he
believed I had actually planted a "baby seed" inside my tummy,
because when I drank water he'd say things like, "You're watering
our little flower, Mommy!" I'd laugh and once again explain in
simple terms the story of the birds and the bees, the plants and
the trees. June finally arrived, and so did the purple plums.
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At first they were fairly small, but Justin climbed his tree
anyway to pick some plums off the branches where the sun dappled
near the rooftop. He brought them to me to let me know the baby
wasn't ripe yet. I felt ripe! I was ready to pop! When were the
plums going to start falling from that darn tree?
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Justin would rub my tummy and talk to his baby sister, telling
her she had to wait a little longer because the fruit was not
ready to be picked yet. His forays into the plum tree lasted longer
each day, as if he was coaxing the tree to ripen quickly. He talked
to the tree and thanked it for letting him know about this important
event in his life. Then one day, it happened. Justin came running
into the house, his eyes as big as saucers, with a plastic bucket
full to the brim of juicy purple plums.
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"She's coming, she's coming! The plums are ripe, the plums are ripe!"
I laughed uncontrollably as Justin stared at my stomach, as if he
expected to see his baby sister erupt any moment. That morning I
did feel a bit queasy, and it wasn't because I had a dental appointment.
Before we left the house, Justin went out to hug his plum tree and
whisper that today was the day his "plum pretty sister" would arrive.
He was certain. As I sat in the dental chair, the labor pains began,
just as Justin had predicted. Our "plum" baby was coming! I called
my parents, and my husband rushed me to the hospital. |
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At 6:03 p.m. on June 22, the day that will forever live in family
fame as "Plum Pretty Sister Day," our daughter was born. We didn't
name her Purple Plum as Justin suggested, but chose another favorite
flower, Heather. At Heather's homecoming, Justin kissed his new
playmate and presented her with his plastic bucket, full to the
brim with sweet, ripe, purple plums. "These are for you," he said
proudly.
Justin and Heather are now teenagers, and the plum tree has
become our bonding symbol. Although we moved from the home that
housed Justin's favorite plum tree, the first tree to be planted
in our new yard was a purple plum, so that Justin and Heather
could know when to expect her special day.
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Throughout their growing-up years, the children spent countless
hours nestled in the branches, counting down the days through
the birth of leaves, flowers, buds and fruit. Our birthday parties
are always festooned with plum branches and baskets brimming with
freshly-picked purple plums. Because as Mother Nature-and Justin-would
have it, for the last fifteen years, the purple plum has ripened
exactly on June 22.
Cynthia Brian ©1999
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