Friends gave me this bush three years ago in honor of Gordy after he died. It came in a five gallon bucket, and just look at it now. It grows like a weed, but I couldn’t be happier about it, because when pruned I bring the clippings inside and display them in a vase. The leaves smell like pine and sweet oregano when you rub them, and it freshens up any room.
The bush sits to the left as you walk up my front steps, and I really do think of Gordy every time I pass by it. I’m certain that if I ever moved out of this house, I would take the bush with me. I just don’t part that easily with Things That Mean Something.
What do you hold in your hand, or in your pocket, what treasure to you look at to remember someone or something by?