"it took me five years to grow this tree," i told her

"you didn't grow it really," she said. "it would have grown by itself. it's a tree"

"but back then, it was a sapling, growing on a brick."

"and it still would have grown, you know," she insisted

and i gestured to the surrounding mess, the apartment buildings, the stone and concrete cul de sac.

"nothing grew here, maybe the buildings got taller, maybe telephone antennas, maybe weeds, but nothing."

"yeah, and?"

"when i saw the first few spindly stems, i thought nothing of it. when i saw the first few leaves, i knew it was curious."

"i dug the rest of the plot, removed the bricks, removed the cover on our gate. and i thought it was the most i could do."

"its the most anyone needs to do, you know" she said. "then it just grows. you wouldn't even need to water it."

"even still." i showed her the dust on the leaves. "the air here would clog the leaves from all the smoke. i showered it with water when i saw most of the leaves shrivel. i still do so."

"that would cost you, though. it's not a big tree, and you know it could die anytime, from the soil, the stones, the smoke."

"it didn't, didn't it?" i smiled, led her under the shade. "it grew, and i was glad. and right now i am glad it is still growing."

"well, okay. i still don't get it."

"you said earlier that it would grow anyways. i knew, but i still made it a plot to grow in.

and you said after that it could die. it didn't, and i'd like to think i helped it live.

and we saw that this place is hard and barren. i knew it is. but i knew it means something that suddenly one day, a little sapling decided to look for light, and air, here of all places.

i gave it the little help it needed to take root, and it made me happy it did. and i water its leaves every so often, because now it lives in the same air i live in.

not really that it makes me happy to see it without dust, but i felt it shared with me the struggle of not being able to breathe.

and really, i like to think that it shows me appreciation, for growing"

she looked a little less perplexed, but it still showed. "okay, but it's just a tree. it seems a lot for you to care for it for years, while it just sits there."

"at least it won't go anywhere.

and besides, it became a part of my life, just being there.

i put lights on its branches, that kids like to frolic upon and sit under.

i see birds flock above it, and i like to think they are grateful that it won't go anywhere. that it is there finally.

and i now see flowers grow, a stark contrast to all my life's grey. i see fruit that says to me, i can go on and grow some more, and i could grow here and there.

i see leaves that fall, and the small broken branches. the little sorrows of its life. i see the tree grow newer branches, that told me of its persistence to keep on."

"it's still a tree. there are trees everywhere"

"i am glad there are.

but i am glad for my tree. it grew on the hardest of places, and now there are flowers, birds, butterflies, and shade.

lucky for some trees to grow in better places, with no one needing to tend to it. lucky that there are forests, and soil, and orchards.

but i feel that me and my tree belong, and that what i do for it, and what little it did for me, is better than any forest."