This morning, I walked over to Frank’s to say Hi. He was showing me the strawberries he planted when I remembered an orange tree I had in a pot behind my apartment. I had planned on planting it one day when I owned my own place. Since I have no idea when that day will ever come I offered the tree to Frank. I borrowed his dolly, ran home to get it, and wheeled it back over to his house. I figured I’d drop it off, say goodbye, and eat a late breakfast but Frank had taken out the hoe and was waiting for me to dig. I didn’t want to but I can’t say No to Frank so I started digging. He occasionally stood up to give me direction. I told him to sit down. We argued as we sometimes do--silly arguments about where to dig, how to break apart the rotted root we found buried in the ground, how deep the hole should be, and so on. The skin on the side of my thumb peeled away but I kept digging. Then I cut the plastic pot off of the orange tree and planted it. I covered it with soil, some powdered manure Frank had in his garage, and then the rest of the soil. It’s a really hot day today and I was a bit tired. But I was proud of the work I did. As I was watering the newly planted tree, Frank said, “You’re impatient but you get it done.” I said, “Do you still think I need to meditate?” He looked at me, thought for a moment, and said, “You still need to meditate."


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