⏱ ~4 min reading
Sofiyka came to her grandmother for the holidays. Grandma's house always smelled of cinnamon and mint tea. The first morning Sofiyka went out onto Grandma's balcony - it was blue, Grandma had painted it herself. There were flowerpots on the floor. Geraniums - pink, white, red. Cactus. Chlorophytum, which was sending out long ribbons.
And in the corner - in the shade, by the wall - stood one tree. Small. No taller than Sofiyka. Sad. The leaves - three or four - hung down like the ears of a rabbit when it's bored. Yellowish, with dry edges. The ground - cracked, like the skin of an old apple.
"Grandma! Grandma, the tree here is dying!"
Grandma came out, adjusting her glasses.
"Oh, swallow. I forgot about him.".
— What is this?
— Lemon. My neighbor from the third floor gave it to me. She went to visit her daughter in another city. And then I got sick and forgot. It almost dried up.
Sofiyka touched the leaf with her finger. It rustled dryly, like paper.
— Is it still alive?
"If there's even one green one, there's a chance. See that one down there?"
Sofiyka bent down lower. Near the trunk itself was a tiny sprout. Green-green. Like a blade of grass.
— I see!
— This means the heart is still beating.
Sofiyka straightened up. She looked at the tree in a new way.
"Grandma. Can I treat him?"
"You can, swallow. But you have to do it right. Otherwise, you'll do harm.".
— How is that correct?
Grandma sat down on a chair and called Sofiyka to her side.
— Listen. First, don’t water it. It’s not a fish. Water it when the soil is dry. Second, cut off the dry leaves. They only take away strength. Third, put it in the sun. It dries in the shade. Fourth, feed it. I’ll give you a spoonful of fertilizer.
Sophie nodded attentively.
They started that same day. Grandma brought a small pair of secateurs. Sofiyka carefully—like a doctor—cut off the dry leaves. The trunk underneath turned out to be not so dead—in places, green, if you poke the bark with your fingernail.
"Look, grandma! It's alive!"
— I told you.
They moved the pot to a sunny spot. Sofiyka checked the soil with her finger - it was dry as dust. She watered it. Not much - a glass.
"Now wait. Don't water until the ground dries out again.".
Every morning, Sofiyka went out onto the balcony. She touched the ground with her finger. If it was dry, she watered it. If it was still wet, she didn't touch it, just talked to the tree.
Yes, she talked to him.
"Well, why are you silent? Let go of one more leaf. I know you can.".
The tree was silent. But the tiny green sprout below was growing. Slowly. But it was growing.
A week later, another sprout appeared. Two or three later. A month later, a small green bud appeared on the old branch. Sofiyka watched it every day. The bud unfolded - first a droplet, then a rolled-up leaf, then a real one. Dark green, shiny. A healthy color.
Sophie ran to her grandmother.
— Grandma! A leaf! A new one!
Grandma came. She looked. She adjusted her glasses. She smiled.
"Well, swallow. You saved him.".
— Not me. It's just me.
"By itself? And who watered it?"
— Me.
"And who cut off the dry ones? Who moved them to the sun?"
— Me.
"You see. It wouldn't have been able to do it on its own. But it did with you.".
When the holidays were over, the tree already had six new leaves. Sofiyka said goodbye to it as if it were a friend. She left her grandmother instructions written in large letters on a piece of paper, which she taped to the pot.
When Sofiyka arrived in the fall, the tree already had twelve leaves. And when she arrived in the winter, she was told: in the spring, perhaps, a flower will appear.
Sofiyka went to bed with the feeling that she had done something important. Because it was really something very small. She just watered it. She just pruned it. She just rearranged it.
And the tree came to life.
💡 Sometimes, to revive a living thing, it needs very little - a drink of water and a little care.