From that day on, whenever weather was good I would let him out early and he would fly around and be back before dark. This routine lasted for about two months and then suddenly Chico became ill. The vet said that he had contracted a disease from pigeons in neighborhood. Within a few days he died, and I mourned his loss.

Just once thought crossed my mind that if I had not set him free to fly every day, he would still be alive. It was then that I realized that quality of one's life is much more important than number of years one lives. What sense is there in being a bird if you can't fly?

Chico made his initial break for freedom on a late Monday afternoon in April. When will you make yours? You too can take a chance when conditions are right, knowing you too in your own way, were built to fly. If you don't set yourself free, what will be purpose of your life?

I would suggest that quality of one's life is dependant on feeling one's essence, and living design that is you. If you are a fish, your life needs to be all about swimming. If you are a bird, your life needs to be all about flying and spreading your message to all that you meet along way. What sense is there in being you, if you don't really let yourself free and express your heart?

This time around, needing hedge clippers to get job done, I cut weed-tree down as close to sidewalk as possible, and I must say that I had a sense of "Good riddance!" when I did so.

Well, I think it was very next morning, or two days at most, when I went outside to find bloody thing sprouting new growth. This time I quickly dug away at it with a small shovel, but I couldn't unearth it, and sure enough, new growth quickly answered call to arms.

At this point I was beginning to concede a shift in balance of power. Regardless of my superior education and specialized negotiation skills, weed-tree was prevailing.

What to do?

I knew by now that there was only one viable course of action. First, I found a new place to park my bike. Next, I went out and purchased some plant food and liberally watered and fed weed-tree every day. My little beauty grew gloriously and I soon began to lovingly trim it into a "bonsai" shape!

Some years later it is looking truly gorgeous!

Two questions come to my mind, and I wonder if they come to yours as well.

1. Can a weed-tree that is nurtured, praised, and pruned, still be considered to be a weed-tree? 2. Isn't life much grander once we realize that so much of what goes on is not under our control?

I only hope my spirit, can be half as strong as tree that has offered itself to me.