It’s a thing in Haiti to plant a tree for each child born. It’s a big deal; from what I am told, families have been known to sell their houses and the land they sit on, but retain rights to the trees and the fruit they produce.
We adopted this tradition when we started having children and bought a house of our own. For our oldest, a maple; for the youngest, an oak; for the second, a tree that was mislabeled as a dogwood.
What are saplings after all, but a type for children? They are young but hardy, and we plant them with an eye on the future, when they will tower over us, provide us shelter, and mark our passing long after we are gone. We plant trees like we plant our children: with faith that tomorrow that they will still be here, and make life worth the living and worth the wait.