The Lemon Tree, Part 2
Next day, I called my Mom.
“Hi Mom.”
“Hi.”
“I talked to R. yesterday. She said my cat died.”
“Why…” she said, confused. “Yes, I told you that.”
“No, you told me that you planted the lemon tree.”
“Oh.”
“Did you bury my cat underneath it?”
“Yes. I did.” Now there was defiance mixed with other emotional complexity I could not unravel with only a faceless voice on the line.
“So R. said she died about 2 weeks ago” I said, knowing that I had to be factual for my own sake and go stepwise for hers.
“Yes,” she said extremely slowly, letting out a big sigh. “Are you upset that I buried her under the lemon tree?”
“No, I’m sure the lemon tree will grow well as a result. She was a thorny sourpuss in her old age so the plant choice is perfect.”
“Good”, she said, her voice relaxing a bit “I’m glad.”
“Mom, R. said she died a few weeks ago,” said I slowing and taking a purposeful breath “but you only buried her yesterday. What’s up with that?”
I waited now, sensing deeper waters.
****
Mom had had a bad feeling when the cat had not come home one night. She called once, but not twice, then did not “go looking”. The next morning Mom trod the front walkway, but not finding her, went inside. Day two she walked around the back patio, but not finding her, went inside. This half-hearted, daily searching went on for a week. At the end of Week One, she found the cat under a bush.
Week Two: Day 1 she found a box. Day 2 she put the box on the redwood table outside. Day 3 she looked at the cat under the bush to be sure it was still dead. Day 4 she checked that the box was the right size. Day 6 she put the cat in the box. At the end of week 2, she put the lid on the box.
Week Three: Day 1 she bought a Meyer lemon tree. “Three gallon pot, a really good one”. Day 2 she decided where to plant it. Day 3 she dug a hole and filled it to the top twice with water, always a good gardening strategy in dry climates. Day 4 she brought the boxed cat around to the front yard. Day 5 she put the boxed cat into the hole. At the end of week 3, she planted the lemon tree on top of the boxed cat.
This quintessential ‘Sheila Story’, rambled long to an extended timeline. Mom was temporally disorganized in a totally charming way.
****
“Well”, I said “I bet she didn’t smell too good during all that time. That box must have been light and the cat dried out by the time you buried her,” I quipped.
Relieved, she chortled, “Right you are!”
“Mom, what took you so long? She was 18 and had had a good life. Why was this so hard for you?”
Now we would get to the meat of it, I thought.
“Well” she said thoughtfully, “she was the last piece of you girls left here at home. She was the only one still here. So I guess it wasn’t just the cat I was burying.”
“Aha,” I said, beginning to understand the earlier complexity I thought I had heard in her voice. “You were burying the past and our childhoods. And in some sense, perhaps burying yourself as a young mother and woman soon-to-be-divorced” I mused slowly, empathizing as understanding dawned.
“Yes, that is absolutely right. I just have had a really hard time letting her - all of that - go.”
“Well, she had a thorny personality and I know you two didn’t really get along. Remember that time she didn’t like something you had done and she pulled the doily and your favorite vase right off the T.V. console? A lemon tree is perfect - she will make great lemons.”
“Yes, she sure will!” laughed Mom. We moved on to lighter topics.
That was decades ago now. Now our own garden has seen the burial of her grandchildren's pets. There was Frisky and Serafina, and perhaps soon…
…to be continued
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Cover Image: Photo by Kenneth Russell, Northern Lights Photography LLC, 1983.
