Hello my dear friend,
A few years ago
we re-designed a part
of our garden.
The neighbours had chosen
to chop down their trees,
leaving our property feeling
rather naked.
So we decided
to plant new ones…
from our side.
We worked with landscapers
and created a vision.
And then it was up to me
to drive to the tree farm,
and choose which trees
to move into our garden.
There were a few
that I immediately picked.
The ones I knew were ours
from a single glimpse.
But then there was
a Willow tree.
As far as my memory goes,
I’ve always loved the Willows.
Their wrinkly trunks and
romantic posture.
Their dangly branches
and the sway of their leaves…
when a busy wind rushes
right past them.
But my mother was always
against having a Willow tree
in our garden.
She believed
it was a mourning tree.
A tree of heartbreak
and loss.
But now…
As I was looking
at this beautiful Willow,
remembering
my mother’s words…
They didn’t make
any sense.
Not anymore.
Because
no matter how many
Willows we didn’t plant…
I still lost my mom.
No matter how many
other trees she had chosen…
Her chair still sat empty
at our table.
Losing someone you love
is an inevitable part of
a well-lived life.
It shatters your heart
into the finest dust…
But it has nothing to do
with any trees in sight.
So I thought
“Enough!”
Which is how
a Willow tree settled
into our garden.
Right next to
the water lily pond
and the Magnolia that
my mother loved.
But then again,
maybe….
My mother was right.
Because whenever I look at it,
I am reminded of her.
Of my dearest mom,
and her odd superstitions…
Of a mother,
who did everything she could
just to keep the sadness
out of her garden.
With love,
Elina Janevica
Artwork / Ludwig Hartmann, “View of a House” (fragment), watercolour, 19th century /
personal collection
