Two and a half feet tall, roots wrapped in burlap — it was much better than a sweater.

Three years ago, my sister asked me what type of tree I wanted as a Christmas present. This wasn’t a simple question, like “What kind of sweater: V-neck or crew?” Julie was dying and wanted to give me a living gift to remember her by.

I thought about it for several days, eventually texting back, “A Japanese maple because I love its lacy leaves and the way they come to life in the fall, turning from green to a brilliant red, as though on fire.”

“Like you, sister,” I added. She had also lived a life on fire.

Compared with Julie, an amateur gardener, and my brother Jay, a landscape designer, I’d come up short when it came to anything resembling horticulture. When we were children, our mother planted a maple in our backyard. It proved resilient under the weight of snow or ice, with a propensity to bend rather than break. I liked these attributes, and the metaphor, especially in light of Julie’s cancer prognosis. I hoped my new maple might help me to become flexible rather than broken in the months to come.

A few weeks after our text exchange, I arrived home to find my sister’s gift: a tree on my front porch, just two and a half feet tall, roots wrapped carefully in burlap. She’d also included one of those pop-up cards. When I opened it, a crimson Japanese maple unfurled in all its glory.

In her familiar scrawl, my sister had written:

Dear Steven
I hope the red maple tree gives you years of beauty and happiness.

Whenever you look at this tree, think of me smiling back at you and saying “I love you!”

You are the best #1 brother a kid sister could ever hope for. You’ve loved me, supported me and stood by me all the time. I am forever grateful that you are my brother.

Love,

Julie

Xoxxoxox

Yes, this was much better than a sweater.

The tree looked forlorn, but that was to be expected. By this time of year, the Japanese maple had already shed its leaves. Now dormant, it was prepared to withstand the winter, awaiting a brighter new year.

Jose, who helps me in the garden, planted it in the backyard under the canopy of a towering black walnut tree, which I hoped would protect the sapling.

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