Safety

My mom gave birth to me under a pear tree. She remembers it being so big and bountiful, laden with pears, blessing the ground, blessing the birds, blessing the ants, blessing the squirrels. My mom told me about the pear tree, she said it looked so strong and wise; like it had weathered many storms and survived. My mom told me about the pear tree, that felt grainy on her back but shaped itself to give her comfort, the comfort inside she lacked. My mom told me about the pear tree, she said its roots ran deep, so much so the earth could no longer hold it and you could see its feet. My mom told me about the pear tree, which was all she had to grab, as she laid there while the rain swallowed dryness’s grasp. My mom told me about the pear tree, that soaked up all my water and blood and said that it provided warmth and shade that otherwise never would have come. My mom told me about the pear tree that stood so short, it practically massaged her back as she was giving birth. My mom told me about the pear tree and, what it meant to her; it was a reminder of the sweetness in the world. My mom, she did many of times, tell me about the pear tree, that helped save her life and therefore mine.

Usually she began the story like this, “There once was a pear tree that I passed every day to and from work. I use to steal its pears and put them in my purse. There it stood as deceptive as one could be, with mealy pears laden at its feet, a sight you didn’t want to see. However, one day, I discovered its secret, the pears it bared were as sweet as sugar coated honey and it didn’t want to be extorted, so it dropped just enough, to feed the land’s feet, and leave the sightly mess to the passers by like me, who would fluff our noses up at the scenery.

However, on this peculiar Tuesday I was running late. I spent more time, hurling over the toilet than fixing something to eat; so after an hours commute, my stomach argued. Without time on my side, to stop somewhere for food, I tiptoed around the pears that laid waste on the ground, and picked a ripe one that was closest to my arm. I rubbed it on my blouse and sank my teeth in and the juice ran down my chiny-chin-chin. Mind you I was running down the busy city street, but when its sugar hit me, my feet came to a sudden halt, and the overwhelming sweetness blazed through my mouth. Its sweet tasty flesh had a slight tart favor punch. The crispness of it challenging my teeth, but only for a second, because the inside was as ripe as could be. I looked back, as my hair blew in the wind, taking sight of the pear tree who was so deceiving.

That day I left work and stood in front of that tree, and promised it that its secret was safe with me. From there, I went home with a smile upon my face as I remembered how the tree’s arms swayed. Almost as if to say thank you, your grace. The months went by and my belly grew, and all I could do was think about you. How you would look, how you would feel, how you brought the very best out of me.

I thought of you, you and that pear tree, because I remember how much you’d kick whenever I stood before her and admired her beauty, her strength, and her love for herself but those around her as well.

As you grew, my legs ran weak and I moved slower than a snail you see, but I was determined to go to work, because I had to prepare for your birth. And I did. Everything was going well, until the day I turned eight months pregnant. That day, I left the office just a tad bit late; I wanted to clear up some paperwork my boss had gave. So on my way out, I realized it was a quarter to nine and the road was pretty much sterile, not a person in sight. The lights were low, flickering as if on their way out and the only persons I saw were four young men coming from the south.

Our eyes connected and I had seen that look before, it was the look one should never ignore. I discretely but frantically with heart jumping in tow searched for anyone, but we were still alone. So in my mind as I briskly walked, I thought about what and how I could keep us unscathed, and out of no where, your four kicks came, as well as your quick turn around, something you only did when the pear tree was around. In an instant I knew exactly what to do, I would run to the pear tree and hide in-between its roots. I would round myself into a ball, and hide under its branches that swept the ground, and there I would be safe, unseen by the eight eyes in chase. And that is what I did.

I remember their shouting and their persistent taunts, where they told me they would find me and do what they want, and as much as I was frightened, even my breath was still. They came close to the pear tree but they saw those measly pears, that laid on the ground, and they quickly lost interest in coming around. Yet they stood in the path, each of them twirling and trying to grasp, some sight of me, some part of me. It was at this time, you started your journey to me and I wasn’t ready.

I had never felt pain such as what I felt then. It was if my bones were breaking. Yet I could not utter a word, I could not utter a sound. I clenched my jaw so hard I cracked a tooth and even though I tasted iron I was not of any strength. My body had been so weak because of the events, and even though I was beginning to lose my breath, I found it yet. I watched them as they shouted ““Come out! Come out! Wherever you are!”” Another chanting “”We’re gonna find you!”” And I could tell, that in their voice was a desire to ruin, a desire to frighten, a desire to hurt and gain fun, and that if I were found, we both would be gone. So I bit my lip as hard as I could, I held one hand over my mouth and another under my stomach and I panted. The young men grew more impatient, more frustrated, and my hope was that they would soon leave, but that was not the case, time had made them even more determined and it was now a chase.

Crouching down, the only thing that gave me peace, was seeing a marigold in-between the tree’s feet. I stared at that marigold whenever the pain would come, and it was only then I could ignore their words that threatened as guns. I felt powerless but also gratitude, because we were still safe. But as I saw them begin to search bushes, among other trees, it dawned on me they would revisit the pear tree. In that moment, that same breath, I clasped my eyes shut, and said ““Mother Nature you’ve done so well, but I beg of you please send more help.”” and that’s what she did.

Down came nail-like rain drops that stung skin, so plentiful eyes could not see a thing. Breathing also labored by raindrops flooding their noses, as their mouths unleashed curses. Their tempers furling, and their efforts now ceased. I watched them as they leaved.

I counted to 4,000, just to make sure they were gone, and would have counted more, but the pain of you making your way to me, left me without the ability. Even as my body shook, my mouth couldn’t yell, not for any help, but only to release the pain I had felt.

When the pain gave me break and the rain had subside, I turned over and knew it was time. You were coming, and it would be, just you and me under the pear tree. It went on for what seemed like hours, but with one last push, and me grabbing the earth beside me, lifting grass in chunk, I felt a sudden gush. I raised myself, extended my arms, and lifted you from the grass. But I noticed before I even saw your face, the moon had blessed you with her grace.

I placed you gently into my arms, tucked underneath my black coat that would keep you warm, and you slept. Oh you slept. We slept. There, just you and I, until the sun peaked through the pear tree's arms. Upon doing that, I looked at you, still asleep, just smiling, encased in your dreams. A beautiful sight that made every moment of my life, alright.

A couple of minutes went by and you opened your eyes, and they were bronze and at first I thought slightly green, but then I realized it was the reflection of the pears on the pear tree. As I adjusted myself by sitting up, I saw next to me, was the three most beautiful pears I had ever seen, and I knew that was the blessing breakfast laid out for me. We ate, as we stared into each other’s eyes, and you had me mesmerized.

Shortly thereafter, my gaze was broken as a strikingly tall man, with briefcase in hand, caught sight of me, and hurried to my aid. I had never seen him before, but it was the way his eyes looked at me, that told me we were safe, and it was not until I was in bed holding you, that I learned from a nurse the man’s name. His name was Mr. Perry and he was the new Mayor of Golden Tree City.

Not even a fifth day came, where I did not make my way with you, into his office, to explain our ordeal and the significance of that pear tree. His eyes, at first engorged with shock, but soon they turned to water spouts. It was only a week later that the pear tree, was named after me, and was a national monument that could never be touched, by the hands of anyone other than us.”