By Lauren Green
When my daughter-in-law graduated from nursing school, I wanted to commemorate her four years of hard work with something special. Like most twenty-something college graduates, I suspect her preference was for practical cash, but, good or bad, when it comes to gifts, I value creativity over usefulness. After scouring the internet for unique ideas, I came across a gem. About thirty minutes southwest of my house, I discovered a home-based nursery specializing in bonsai trees. The nursing profession is an ancient, hands-on mix of science and art. A lot like a bonsai tree, I reasoned. So with my daughter-in-law riding shotgun and my son tagging along in the backseat, we took a field trip to Cowtown to select the perfect bonsai tree for the area’s newest PICU nurse.
Inevitably, time has a way of blurring some memories, emphasizing others and completely rewriting the rest. Today I can’t recall the name of that nursery, but I do have crystal-clear memories of following vague directions through an unfamiliar neighborhood, one filled with a remarkably high number of barking dogs. Eventually, we managed to find the place, marked only with a small, hand-painted sign attached high on a chain-link fence.
Hand in hand, my son and daughter-in-law led the way. I brought up the rear, pausing just long enough to text my husband a last-minute just-in-case pin drop of our location. Together, we followed a gravel path around an unmarked building, where, just around the corner, a bonsai bonanza spread out before us. In every direction, including up, down, in and out, bonsai trees were perched against ledges, stacked along walkways and tucked in groupings along every available surface. Some were as small as my hand, while others towered above our heads. All lured us into the extraordinary, quirky and slightly mysterious world of bonsai horticulture. In the midst of it all, a woman and her husband appeared.
They introduced themselves as the owners, showed us around the property and immersed us in the art of bonsai. They also gave us a touch of the heebie-jeebies. Looking back, they were welcoming and friendly, but still, the situation felt off. The contorted bonsai, barking dogs and off-the-grid location all set off red flags. Exchanging silent eyeball signals among the three of us, my daughter-in-law quickly made her selection and we skedaddled out of there — taking with us a beautiful twelve-inch bonsai tree and a story we were bursting to share.
My daughter-in-law is a well-loved nurse at a respected Fort Worth hospital. She has a hand in preserving lives every day. But as it turns out, her skills may best be suited for humans. Her bonsai tree died two weeks after she brought it home. We briefly discussed going back to the nursery for a replacement, but deep down I was secretly glad no one pushed the idea.
Fast forward to when I recently received a gift. For my birthday, my aforementioned daughter-in-law and daughter took me to see a professional color analyst. Unlike the confusing search for the hidden bonsai yard years ago, this time the directions were clear, leading us directly to a fancy gated neighborhood north of Dallas. We were greeted by a woman (also followed by her husband) who welcomed us into her studio, brightly lit and full of gorgeous color. Inside, a dog (this time non-barking) watched us quietly. He sat next to a table adorned with a platter of cookies and a chilled bottle of champagne. With no red flags in sight, we silently eyeballed each other and settled in for the next two hours.
We had a fantastic day. We sipped champagne, nibbled three different kinds of cookies and learned the ins and outs of our own personalized color schemes. I consider it a great memory. That bonsai day is a great memory, too. As different as those experiences were, they had one thing in common. As each one unfolded in real time, I remember thinking, “This is going to make a great story.” That bonsai tree is long dead, and no telling how long I will stick to my newly discovered color wheel, but neither memory can ever be returned, which is just fine, because both are priceless. Of course, I enjoy useful gifts — who doesn’t need a new pair of socks once in a while? But if you’re after a high-value gift this upcoming season, consider those purchased with the currency of creativity.