The Plum Pretty Sister 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 LawrenceJustin 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 dragging his toy tractors and trucks up to their new garage. One day when he was two, Justin was playing in the tree as usual. I turned my back to prune the rosebush, and he disappeared. "Justin, where are you?" I hollered. His tiny voice called back, "Up here, Mommy, picking all the plums for you!" When Justin was three, 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." From the beginning he was sure he was 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 three-year-old know what "June" meant? Just then, as Justin climbed into the low branches of the plum tree, he gave me the answer I was looking for . . . his special tree. "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. 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." March brought the plum's beautiful tiny white flowers, and Justin was overjoyed. "She's b'ooming, 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 b'ooming, too. I think she wants to come out and see the flowers." So it went for the next couple of months, as Justin checked every detail of his precious plum tree and reported to me about the flowers turning to tiny beads that would become plums. The Excerpted from Chicken Soup for the Gardener's Soul: 101 Stories to Sow Seeds of Love, Hope and Laughter by Jack L. Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Marion Owen, Cindy Buck, Carol Sturgulewski, Pat Stone, Cynthia Brian, Jack Canfield All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
