I was thinking what a beautiful day this is and about how blessed I am until I felt the scratchiness of the willow branch as it passed across my cheek. The scent of it provoked an immediate reaction that took my thoughts to a different time. The disruptive little memory provoker slid down my face and across my shoulder flooding my mind with lost dreams and visions of things that would never be. I had always loved weeping willow trees and even as a child dreamed of having one someday in my own yard. I think I did try planting one once before, but the ground was too rocky, and it did not survive. Now there were two, and the thought of the day they were bedded in the ground brought tears to my eyes. The motor on the zero turn was growling at me now to do something so I pulled back on the throttle and pushed in the brake to hush the noise. And there I sat, teary eyed looking across the pond at the other willow – my weeping willow – or rather, the one that should have been mine, taking root in what was my yard but now was out of reach to me. I would never sit on a bench reading a book under the grand willow I had always dreamed of having. The softness of the gentle breeze was drying the tears on my skin and the once scratchy willow branches were faintly caressing my face and shoulders as though the grand tree was saying now, now, don’t cry. It seemed the gentle wind and the delicate trees were in cahoots, stirring up memories then joining forces to console the heart, as though the little scratchy branch had made a mistake and the elders were trying to fix it – it was too late – the emotions were running amuck and the nostalgic sentiments were ruling the roost, for now anyway.

I knew my coming back here had the potential of being extremely emotional and difficult, but I loved the people so much, those friends I had left behind when my heart was broken. I had to get away but in doing so I gave up a lot, including the beautiful new friendships I had made. We stayed in touch with each other, and I always visited when I was in Tennessee. I’d been here for a while and wasn’t leaving anytime soon so they offered me a place to come with my little house on wheels. I decided to take them up on it. On the day I pulled onto their property with the Jayco I only had one request, that my one big window did not face ‘the house.’ Like that would matter, but in my mind it would, so we set it up in the perfect direction and all was good.

It is so beautiful here, that’s why we bought the house and property next door, because of the beauty. I remember us saying to each other, “Do you know how many thousands of dollars we have spent to take a vacation in a spot like this?” And we had. When you live in the desert you will pay plenty to spend a week with grass, and water, and trees – and we did!

“Is there some reason why we cannot wear gloves to do this?”

I had been traveling back and forth looking at properties until we could narrow it down to two or three, a doable number in one weekend, so Bill could fly in, look at them, and vote for the one he liked before we made a final decision. The property on Myrtle Road was both our favorites and won with a slide. We felt at home the moment we stepped up on the deck. Realtors always insist the homeowners are not home for a showing, they are afraid they will ruin the sell or get emotional and change their minds. But because Bill flew in from California for one day no one had a choice, and the owners were there to greet us. It was by no means a negative, I think we both liked them as much as the property. Billy took Bill out on the green machine (4 wheeler) to the see the back 40 – as it would be named later – and Nita and I sat on the deck chatting, me in the swing, and she on a chair. The deck was like a lush garden with all sorts of hanging and potted plants and the hummingbirds were adorable, flitting around like they owned the place. I think the realtor was embarrassed that I had made myself at home and ask if I could sit in the swing. I didn’t care. It was a lovely moment and connections were made that day that will never be broken.

We were in a hurry to get Bill back to the airport, so we rushed to the office with the realtor and signed the offer papers on Myrtle Road. We quibbled very little; we were in love with it just like it was. He flew away and I spent some time in Tennessee with the family before returning to start packing. It was a long process, a huge move, and it would take us a few months to get everything in order. Bill was going to stay in California for a while and I would fly back and forth packing one and setting up the other. That was our original plan. Mainly it was for financial reasons that he would stay and work and sell the house there, then join me in Tennessee at our new forever home. I flew in, signed the closing papers, got the keys and came back to the house to sleep – it felt comfortable. I wasn’t the least bit afraid in the big empty house and went right to sleep. I flew back to California the next day to start the shipping and excessive car towing process, but plans had changed. Bill was so excited – and who could blame him – he had decided he was going with me. We were just going to go all in and make the move together, and that’s what we did. The first night together on Myrtle Road it was confirmed, we had made the right purchase – we were home.

The initial and most important thing Bill and I did was buy a zero turn mower and a ‘green machine’ so we could fit in with the rest of the landowners on Myrtle Road – little did we know they were necessities, and we would be so grateful for them later. In a few short weeks I would find myself digging in the dirt with my new friend and neighbor, who by the way was the previous owner of our lovely home, Nita. I once ask, “Is there some reason why we cannot wear gloves to do this?” Nita laughed, her sister laughed, we all laughed. They were breaking me in to the country way of doing things. There were so many lilies in the flower beds that had to be deadheaded, and the rock garden and pathways had to be weeded and sprayed. On my hands and knees digging and pulling weeds until it was clean, then spraying to make the rest of the summer easier; around the pond, around the flower boxes, trees, everything – everywhere! Spring was hard with all the weeding and trimming and mowing. But eventually I found I was enjoying the planting, even without the gloves. Me and Nita planted rose bushes, more flowers, and trees – lots of trees. We would shop together at Lowes Garden Center like most girlfriends shopped at the mall for shoes and clothes. It was so fun to be outside and I was catching on to how things were done – in the country.

Nita, Billy, Carolyn, Jimmy, and Theresa
– the fantastic five!

I soon learned to enjoy mowing the 8 acres ever four days in summer. It was always so rewarding to me. First, I found it to be a fantastic time to sing and pray as loud as I wanted, no one could hear, and then to look back and see the perfectly trimmed green grass on that size of a lot was just beautiful – it made it worth the commitment, the sweating, even the bugs! I would take pictures and text them to Bill and tell him I had his golf course all ready for him when he got off work. And he would come home and go fishing in his lake (it was a pond) and ride his green machine out into his forest (it was a small, wooded area in back). I cannot even express how pleased I was for him; I was so happy that he could have land and a lake and a forest all his own and I loved keeping it looking pristine for him. Trust me there were struggles in doing that. I remember one day after working all day on the yard, trying to use hedge clippers, and not knowing how to trim back the trees in the driveway, and becoming overwhelmed with how quickly the grass needed cutting, I was sitting in the green machine crying like a baby. My friend showed up and I cried to her, I didn’t mean to, I was so emotional it just spilled out. In a few minutes she left and came back with her husband and electric hedge trimmers. We worked together until dusk and got it all done. I learned that day that it was a daily upkeep job and if you put anything off it would become overwhelmingly due all at once. She, my friend Nita, got me through it. Nita, Billy, Carolyn, Jimmy, and Theresa – the fantastic five. They taught me how to care for everything and they were always there to help me do it. We did everything outside together, communal style, everything – even planting the willows – one on my side of the pond, and one on her side of the pond. I sat under Nita’s willow now looking tearfully across Bill’s lake at mine – what was Bill’s lake and what was my willow.

We had made this our home. I knew it may be challenging to find my place back in Tennessee after being gone so long, but it was close to my family, and I was very happy to be here, we both were – I thought. The bliss was brief. There would soon be financial problems, traveling just to get work, betrayal, and heartache. The beautiful home we had settled into soon became empty and solum and unbearable to stay in with a broken heart. I didn’t care to see how the fruit trees we planted survived. I didn’t care about blooming lilies in the spring, or water fountains in the summer. I would never sit on the 6 foot deck Husqvarna again. I didn’t even give a single thought to the tiny, newly planted willow tree – until now. Now my heart is aching because I gave it the perfect spot in the yard to grow in and yet I would never feel it’s branches hover over me like the ones I was feeling now beneath Nita’s willow. I began to weep.

I was crying over the beautiful home and yard that should be mine when God spoke ever so softly, and His words provoked the slickest smile that edged across one side of my mouth. Through my sad tears I could feel it forming in a little snarky grin. It was saying, “Ha! That’s right! Yeah, willow tree take that.” The smile turned into a full gentle grin and that peace that passes all understanding flooded my whole being. I joyfully resumed my mowing in Nita’s yard – with my back to the willow across the pond – still weeping.

He had said to me, “But daughter, your father owns the cattle on a thousand hills. That is but a tiny piece of land with a house and a willow tree you are coveting, do you want that? I can give it to you. Or do want all of what I can give you? Do you want all that I want to give you?”

I wasn’t weeping for the lost willow tree now; I was no longer weeping for the lost love; I was weeping because of my new love – my father’s love.