“Love the trees until their leaves fall off,
then encourage them to try again next year.”
It seems like just a tree, but it’s not. Not to me. I’ve had pears from it all my childhood. Well, in the summer times, I mean. The sweetest pears, too. And there would be so many of them that we’d give away to the neighbours and who ever came by. I’m telling you, they were so sweet and juicy that they’d melt in your mouth, and I’m not even exaggerating.
That tree has seen a lot. It’s seen us run around playing hide and seek, it’s seen us play soccer on the piece of land right next to it, it’s seen me play with all the dogs I managed to have and find; even my first one named Rocky, who we tied next to the tree for him to learn. I must’ve been about 7 years old. That dog cried so much that it nearly made me cry, and then dad let him loose, and said there’s no point in trying to teach the dog. His cry was unbearable, I’m guessing. I guess it also saw that one time when Rocky playfully bit my mother by her beautiful dress and made a hole in it.
It’s seen me run after my white, big rabbit. It’s seen my friends and I make trouble; like that one time when we picked small apples and started throwing them towards the neighbour kids, or when we decided to have a water fight and I stood by the balcony with buckets full of water and poured them down on the enemies. It’s seen the times my grandmother used to yell at my cousins and friends for the troubles I had caused, because she couldn’t bare to yell at me (“Nona, it was me!”.. “No, it wasn’t you. I know it!” But it really was). And it must’ve heard so many stories. Because right under that tree, there’s this white, plastic table and a few chairs. And we’d sit there for hours and talk, not even the pitch black sky could tell us to go inside. And all those stories. It’s heard them all.
I found the picture as I scrolled through the album. It shows that it’s taken on the day gramps was buried. The confusing part is that I can’t even remember taking this picture. Yet it’s there, and I hope that tree stays there forever just so that it can soak up some more memories, and keep spoiling us with those sweet, juicy pears.