Cherries

Hunter burst through the bushes. It was mid-afternoon, He had just picked some cherries. He had never actually seen cherries on a cherry tree before, and he was doing his best to carry as many as possible without squishing or dropping them.

“Hey Ellen, did you know there are cherry trees here? Check it out. I got some.”

“I don’t have any more milk.” She said from the tent. She’s not really the camping type. More of a city girl, pale and soft from her office job. He convinced her to try new experiences after everything.

Hunter dropped the cherries into a plastic bowl and rinsed them with ice water. “These look pretty. Foraging for berries? How did we get so lucky to actually come across some? And in the snow of all things. I’ve got to show you the cherries on the tree dusted with snow. They’re like little ornaments”

“She brushed the tent flap aside and stepped out. “There’s no more milk.”

“It’s probably just the wrong time. Come have some cherries.”

She sat next to him and the bowl of cherries.

“Did you see that little house we passed on the way up? I wonder who lives there. Could you imagine living in a house way out here, on a mountain, all by yourself, away from everyone? And that pond, totally frozen. Or was it a small lake? At what point does a pond become a lake? Either way, I wouldn’t risk standing on that ice.”

“Do you remember when we met?”

“Yes.”

“You were all over my coworker and me.”

“Yeah, and you were a clumsy drunk. Still cute though. Actually, I think that’s what made you so cute. I bet you never thought we’d end up here,” He shoved two cherries in his mouth at the same time, more focused on getting the most out of the moment rather than making them last.

“Sure didn’t.” She picked up a cherry, rolled it around to study it, smelled it, held it to her cheek and lips feeling its cool skin, and then held it back out to rest dangling by the stem.

“What should we do? There’s plenty of light so we don’t have to start cooking right away. Should I get the fire ready so we can light it up as soon as the sun sets?”

“I’m not making milk anymore.”

“I’ll get the fire ready.” He stood up to get the wood from the car.

Ellen switched hands with the cherry and pulled out her phone. No reception. She sighed and put it away so she could study the cherry again. “You know, I love cherries. I actually always wanted a cherry tree. I know that’s strange. Most people have apple trees or orange trees. There’s just something about the story of Abraham Lincoln and the cherry tree that stuck.”

“I think that was actually George Washington, Babe.” He plopped some logs next to the pit and started making a wooden TP.

“Whatever, you know what I meant. I just imagined picking cherries with my little boy or little girl on a sunny peaceful day. Kind of like this.” She bit the cherry in half exposing the seed. She chewed it plenty for such a small bite. “Maybe this will grow into a tree someday.”

“Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure the cherry tree story is a myth made up to sell biographies..” Hunter stepped back to admire his work.

“I want to go home.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“We just got here. Set up the tent. The table of food. Everything,”

“I’m just not there.”

“Okay.”

“I think I really am done this time.”

“The milk?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want to do.”

“Yeah,” she dropped the half-eaten cherry in the dirt, “Please?”

“Alright, I’ll start packing. Just relax for a minute.”