A Tree Grows in My Driveway (or, a Portrait in Tenacity)

There’s a tree growing in my driveway. That’s right. This is not a misprint. A sapling of some kind has attempted to take root in the harshest, most unfruitful environment imaginable: my driveway. Mind you, it’s not asphalt or concrete, but it is nonetheless the absolute least fertile ground to be found in a quarter acre in any direction. Yet, it is here that this wannabe tree has elected to stand it’s ground and pass on it‘s seed.

At first, I regarded it with a sneer, as my mower’s blades remorselessly cut it down. But, it returned - mowing after mowing, week after week - as if mocking me. A dry spell of some weeks could not dissuade it; constant trampling by neighbors, cats, dogs, squirrels, and mailmen would not snuff out it’s life. It was a determined little sapling.

It reminded me of a time when I found myself in a situation I could not envision a way out of. (Insert apology for ending a sentence with a proposition here.) I remember thinking that I was probably one of those people who didn’t know when they were whipped. I had the white flag ready, but I couldn’t find an enemy to wave it in front of. (See previous apology.) I was down for the count (insert boxing movie cliché here); I was a day late, and a dollar short (insert film noir gumshoe detective movie cliché here).

But in time, a door opened which I had not been able to see previously, and I stepped through. In time, the smoke cleared, the fog lifted (insert climactic, arpeggiated music swelling here), and I could see my destiny.

So, I took pity on the misguided sapling. I carefully uprooted, and re-planted it in more suitable environment, where it had a fighting chance to realize it’s destiny and become a tree. I opened a door for this brave little soldier. I tilted the odds in it‘s favor (insert gambling movie cliché here).

The little sapling and I have a one thing in common: we do what we do because it’s ingrained in us. It is to strive to survive. If only long enough to pass on our seed.

It’s ingrained in us.

(Update: The sapling didn’t make it. I don’t know what happened. Sorry.)