When I was a little girl, we planted trees in our backyard.
They were pretty scrawny, and I was pretty disappointed. I had always dreamed of a backyard where I could escape from reality into the branches of a great oak or read about Nancy Drew or the BBSC in the shade of a majestic weeping willow. Our saplings didn't quite fit the bill, but my parents assured us that someday, our grandchildren would climb the branches of those trees.
Well, they grew a lot faster than we anticipated. Unfortunately, as I remember it, one of the bigger trees took sick, and my dad took care of it. I was so mad when I saw its remains: a neatly cut stump. Good for nothing but tripping over when you weren't looking down.
Today that tree stands proud, healthy and tall, with only a small scar to memorialize its life-saving trial. Sometimes you gotta cut out the bad to make room for the good.
So, like I said before, my basil plant's been struggling. Things went from bad to ugly pretty quick, and suddenly I was watering a cup of dirt and dried herbs. I was about to throw it all out when I remembered that tree in my backyard. I cut each stick down to a stub, and just the other week, this is what I saw:
A new, fresh green sprig, making its way back from the dead, just in time for the holiday of rebirth and resurrection.
Here's to second chances we all desperately need. I think this little guy's got a pretty good one.