The Day I Dropped My Husband at the Airport, My Eight-Year-Old Daughter Warned Me Not to Go Home. Minutes Later, I Saw Why.
Flores.
I broke up the packed soil and Lily carried small amounts of compost in a bright green bucket.
We read the planting instructions twice and talked about watering without drowning the roots.
It was all quite ordinary, except that it was one of the first projects we had planned together without a cloud of appointments and legal deadlines hanging above us.
When the tree was upright, Lily stepped back and inspected it.