The Day He Let Go

On the day he lost his job, Ido was certain his life was over.

For fifteen years, he had been a senior executive at a high-tech company. He had an excellent salary, an expensive car, and a calendar without a single free hour.

And now, at forty-eight, he was sitting in his car in the office parking lot, holding a cardboard box of his belongings.

He couldn't bring himself to drive home.

At last, he called his father.

"Dad, I've lost everything."

His father was quiet for a moment.

"Can you come and help me in the garden?"

Ido almost laughed. "Dad, I'm telling you I've been fired, and you're talking about the garden?"

"I heard you. Come over."

An hour later, Ido stood in the garden of his childhood home.

His father, seventy-eight now, was trying to move a young lemon tree that had been planted in the wrong place.

"Help me get it out," he asked.

Ido gripped the trunk and pulled hard.

The tree didn't move.

He pulled harder. A branch snapped.

"Wait," his father said. "You're hurting it."

"Then how do we get it out?"

His father knelt and began gently loosening the soil around the roots.

Ido settled beside him, still wearing his button-down work shirt.

For twenty minutes, they worked in silence.

At last, the tree came free almost on its own.

"You see?" his father said. "You don't always need to pull harder. Sometimes you need to loosen what's holding on."

Ido looked at his dirt-covered hands.

"I don't know who I am without that job," he said suddenly.

His father sat down beside him.

"Do you remember wanting to be a teacher when you were little?"

Ido smiled. "Yes. You used to say I'd explain to the ants how to walk."

"And do you remember playing your guitar until your mother asked you to stop?"

"More or less."

"And do you remember how much you loved hiking?"

Ido said nothing.

"All of those things are still there," his father said. "There just hasn't been room for them in years."

Ido lowered his head.

"I'm scared, Dad."

"I know."

"What if I never find another good job?"

"Maybe you will. Maybe you'll find something else. I don't know."

His father rested a hand on his shoulder.

"But I do know one thing. For years, you've been so busy holding on to the life you built that you've hardly had time to live it."

Ido began to cry.

His father didn't try to comfort him. He simply sat beside him, on the earth.

After a while, Ido asked:

"So what am I supposed to do now?"

His father pointed to the lemon tree.

"First, let's plant it somewhere with more sun."

The next morning, for the first time in years, Ido woke without an alarm.

He made coffee, opened the window, and listened to the birds.

Then he took an old guitar out of the cupboard.

He still didn't know what he would do with his life.

But for the first time in a long while, he wasn't in a hurry to find the answer.