The Plum Tree

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

Bloom where you’re planted, Oma always said. But Christine’s roots were restless, wondering what it would be like in more fertile soil.

Christine skirted the old and middle-aged women trudging along in front of her, wondering if they could remember the giddy thrill of passion before life had forced them to rush through their days without seeing the world.

If there was one thing she needed to learn, it was to live in the moment.

Christmas was an enduring milestone that came and went, while the world forever changed.

There’s a time for everything, you know. A time for work, a time for play, a time for worry, and a time for rest. Right now, enjoy this time with your family. We never know what tomorrow brings.”

Her household was the one thing she could control. Cooking meals, washing dishes, folding laundry, washing windows, scrubbing floors. She could control all of those things, and so she did. She kept busy every minute of every day, performing each job completely and flawlessly, the only way she knew how to deal with her unpredictable life.

So that’s how it happens, she thought. I’ll get distracted by life. The wounds will be covered by pleasant moments, moments that I used to take for granted. Hopefully, the pleasant moments will become more frequent, and longer lasting. Because if I keep living in the past, I won’t survive.

She looked down at her mother’s calloused hand resting over hers. With every crease and blister, with every age spot and hard piece of skin, she saw her mother’s hard work. Hard work carried out in the name of love.

But good can still stand up against evil. And maybe the best place to do that is here.