The other day, I received this text:
"Ur going 2 b a mommy again."
My heart stopped. Then it raced. Then it stopped again. "Say whaaaaat?!?"
It was from my father-in-law. I couldn't think how he would know I was pregnant before me. Then I thought,
"Well, he is quite a spiritual person. He has verrrry vivid dreams. Does he think he heard a prophetic word from God or something?"
I had just been thinking about how unready I was for another kid right now the day before this text. Did Dad-in-law know my heart? Was he speaking into my insecurities and sending me a word of assurance? It just didn't quite add up.
I decided that he must have sent the text to me accidentally. He meant it for someone else. Let's face it, it's pretty impressive to have a father-in-law that texts at all, mis-dialing happens. Or maybe he meant to say "aunt" not "mommy." He has three other kids, and nine other grand-kids, someone is always multiplying. That must be it.
But was it?? It was really eating away at me. The text had arrived while I was putting Sofia to bed, so as soon as she was down, I gave him a call to get to the bottom of this anxiety provoking mystery.
"Oh hey. Did you get my text?"
"Yeeeeesssss. What exactly did that mean?"
"You're going to be a mommy again."
"What do you mean by that Leo? Is there something you know that I don't??"
"Your avocado trees. They have fruit!"
"Ooh! Wow!!! No way!"
Nearly nine years ago, I ate a handful of avocados while living in a cottage on campus. I stuck toothpicks in the pits, and hung them over water. My great aunt, Beth, told me you could grow avocado trees this way when I was in fourth grade, and I'd been trying ever since then. Much to my surprise, a life long dream came true and a few of them actually started growing roots. After caring for them for about a year, a few of them actually turned into trees. I moved out of the cottage, into a duplex, and transplanted my trees into some soil, fully expecting to kill them at any time. But somehow, three of them survived past my time at that residence. When I got married and knew I'd be moving into an apartment where I could no longer keep them, my new in-laws agreed to adopt my little babies and allow me generous visitation rights.
For seven years, my amazing gardner of a father-in-law has cared for my trees, transfered them into larger pots as they've grown, pruned them every year. He asked everyone he could, all kinds of experts at several nurseries about their potential for bearing fruit. Everyone told us that they wouldn't bear fruit unless they were grafted, and even then, it wasn't guaranteed, and even if they did, it would take at least 5-6 years. NINE years later, no grafting, they are bearing fruit. It's a miracle!
I think that the seeds were my babies, and their fruit will more appropriately be considered my grand-babies. So, I'm a grandmother! Yay!
When I told Manny the story, he said,
"Wow! I helped change the water on those plants when they were just seeds. I changed your trees' diapers!"