A Tree Grows in the Bronx

Regarding the previous post, I should say that metaphor is metaphor, and life is life. A metaphor is not, strictly speaking, an equation. There are ways in which sitting with a dying friend is very much like and in no way like writing a book. I won't weigh the difficulties of each, it's too much apples and oranges...

J. is on the West Coast for two weeks, sitting with his post-octogenarian father who's just had a heart attack and stroke (recovering slowly, but yes, recovering), and also visiting with an old friend who is in the late stages of liver cancer. Both men are weighing in at less than 130 lbs. J. calls every night, and I sit with him - my friend - as he sits with his father and his friend.

I've stayed in the city, for work reasons and also because of stormy/wintry weather. In lighting out for the country, there are both the challenge of getting there through snow & sleet, and, once there, getting out (have not yet invested in the snow-blower). I am not proud of my damsel-in-distress anxieties, but for now, this is me.

Some news: we have a tree! A lone tree, dormant of course, planted a week ago just outside the building. D. the landlord asked the city for it - part of Mayor Bloomberg's MillionTreesNYC initiative. Go, Mike!

I should say, though, that it took, oh, about a year from the time of the initial request. In an earlier post, I wrote about city time vs. country time, i.e. fast vs. slow, especially when it comes to change. But here in the Bronx, at least, change takes its sweet time. One year for a tree! And literally, it's the only tree on the street. I just made an online request for another one, a few blocks down. This is going to be fun - let's start counting the days until it arrives...

In other good/slow news: there is a stretch of hilly "grass" around the corner, the slope underneath the highway. The "grass" there is 5-feet high, and it's become a thriving garbage dump. The pup and I walk by there every day, twice a day, plug our noses and whince (wait, what am I saying, the pup loves it of course, chicken bones and cat poop galore). For the first time in a year, there is a crew out there today weed-whacking, raking, and cleaning. Huzzah!

The little things, my friends. It's Christmas time, and we who celebrate in the Judeo-Christian tradition await the miraculous arrival of Emmanuel, God with us. This tree - I swear, you have to know this block and this part of the city I suppose to not think I'm a loon - is, feels like, (heck, in child-like wonder I'm claiming it as) something very close to a miracle.