The lemon tree
The fact that you will go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow makes you feel immortal. A seventy-year-old person has gone through this loop more than 25,000 times. There's still plenty of time to live—you think.
But despite science's lengthy efforts to vanquish death itself: we all die eventually. A feeling of permanence fools us into thinking that what surrounds us today will be there forever.
Around twenty five years ago, I moved with my family into a new house. Among other greenery, two lemon trees were planted by the porch.
Last year, I sat in the garden and sketched one of them.
Under the right conditions, certain tree species live for centuries. For citrus trees, the average life expectancy is fifty years.
Barely a few months after my drawing, the lemon tree dried out and got cut off the ground. Now the grass covers its trunk's remains while his twin brother is still kicking.
Every day is a new opportunity to acknowledge what you have.
Nothing lasts forever.
