Immediately after getting home from the hospital yesterday I looked at my phone to see if there were any messages.

There was one.

Since the baby was supposed to be delivered today, we had tentatively planned between my friend who wanted an Anya apricot seedling and the local Mormon missionaries who’d offered to help move the thing for them to pick it up Friday–or else next Monday or Tuesday as things worked out and plant it for her. We hadn’t asked; they’d offered, because lifting that heavy pot with a tree on its third year was beyond us and someone else had clued them in.

They are here to serve, they said, so, cool, let’s go!

So here I was looking at my phone at 4:45 and they’d asked if they could be there at 5:00 and I sent a quick message to the friend who thankfully was paying attention to her phone and got immediately back to me and then there they were.

That tree has grown a lot and a lot sideways these past two months. It took careful maneuvering with the dolly to get it through our gate door without damaging anything. They lifted it in and then strapped it down carefully: it was not going to budge an inch in the back of that pickup they’d arranged for.

The friend is ecstatic.

My backyard feels odd with it gone, but a very happy odd because it is where it was meant to be. My old and dear friend gets to see it flourish in its new digs. We get to race to see whose tree fruits first.