In the corner of the garden, away from the brick path there woven among the greenest of grasses, a tiny seed had fallen. It wasn't put there by design. The gardener didn't cultivate it. It wasn't nurtured. But still it managed to get enough water, enough sun, that from beneath the soil, I tiny stem had pushed through the overlooked piece of dirt. As a sapling, the earth was dry and skies did not open often. But the from the sapling a tree continued to grow. The gardener, by now, had seen the sad, unhealthy plant. It was too difficult for him to reach. And he had too much else to care for in the garden.
As time passed, the tree did not grow big and strong like an oak. It remained small. It's branches were limp. It's leaves a pale green, not vibrant like the trees that surrounded it. The others tree grew, and their branches reached far into the sky, aiming for the sun. When the rains came, they drank it up. Yet still, the small, lonely tree in the corner of the garden survived.
The garden wall had began to crumble in certain places. The gardener had grown weary, tired, unable to manage all of what he had created. And so, the edges, the corners of the garden were left in tangles. Vines began to take over. Grasses grew tall. Flowers ceased to bloom. And in the furthest corner of the garden, too far from the path, now covered in weeds and moss, stones tumbled from the once sturdy wall.
The small, fragile tree with drooping limbs and the pale leaves seemed to enjoy the extra space. It seemed to stand a little taller, stretch a little wider. Time went on and vines choked out the tall grand trees that hood stood around the weak tree. But the chaos and the freedom to be, allowed the tree to grow. Even the gardener took notice. He found himself caught in a shadow in the center of the garden. A shadow he didn't recognize. The unfamiliar shade sent him searching. He hadn't been to far reaches of his garden in years. But his feeble legs sought out the once beautiful meandering brick path. He made his way through the garden, clumsily, tripping over roots that had stretched across the bricks.
He made his was to the fringe, a corner of the garden he had long since forgotten. And there he was confused by what he had found. He no longer saw the steady, solid, tall oaks that once reached high toward the sky, dwarfing all they surrounded. Vines hung from their branches, dry and broken branches littered the ground. He stretched his neck, pondering what could have cast the shadow over the center of this once grand garden. He caught a glimpse of green beyond the dead trees before him. His foot lifted off the path and came down cracking the fallen limbs. He stepped forward into the garden. He found his way through the tangled mess of vines just as he reached the wall, he turned toward the corner, and there...there before him was the largest grandest tree he had ever seen. His mouth dropped agape, his eyes began to tear, he leaned to the side, propping himself against a pile of fallen rocks. He couldn't imagine what had become of that little sapling. The one he didn't bother cultivating, the one he never bothered to prune.
The tree stood strong and tall. It's limbs danced in the gentlest of breezes. Its leaves produced a sweet smell that drifted through the garden and beyond the crumbled walls. It stood where once there had been many. Now only one. And even though it had overcome, it had survived, the tree was still sad. All the years it had been alone, weak and barely clinging to life, it had loved the garden that surrounded it. But now, in its moment of grandeur, all it had loved was no more.
The gardener looked on, for the first time really noticing the forgotten seed that now towered before him and he sensed the sadness. He dropped to his knees, letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry I let this happen. You stand alone in a broken mess." Tears filled his eyes and rolled off his sunken, brown cheeks one at a time. A gentle breeze drifted through the opening where once the wall had been and twirled the lower branches of the tree, then a gust broke across the plain and hit the tree with force, tangling the even some of the stronger branches. And it was if the tree responded to the gardener, "I was here. All I ever wanted was love. I was right here. And even though you never really saw me, never cared for me a day in your life, here I stand, taller and stronger than anything you created."
The wind drifted away and the tree came to rest with the final flutter of the its leaves. And the gardener saw the pain and the sadness of the trees final words. Now it was strong and tall and bigger than any of the other trees. But the others...they were gone. And again the tree was alone.
He rose up to his feet and stepped forward. Passing through the lower reaches of its branches and resting his hands against the hardened, cracked skin of its trunk. "I'm sorry my Willow, my Weeping Willow".
