Pear Tree

It's a breezy summer evening in this small, countryside town. A young boy called Peter, is seen walking home from school. It's Friday; the last day of school; the first day of summer break. The best day ever. The sixth grade treated him well, Peter reflected. He'd made many new friends, he liked his new teachers, and he was closer to home now. He liked walking home from school. Peter's mother always told him to mind the rocks in his path whenever he walked home alone. There were many rocks on that path. She never said anything about the trees, though. Peter's mother rarely picked him up from school anymore, since she spent a lot of her time taking care of her work-from-home business. At least, that's what she'd told him; she knew Peter liked the walk. She knew he loved to play in the trees, he loved throwing rocks; he loved to be in nature. Peter swung on thick tree branches, just to see how far he would go; it felt flying. He loved how strong most trees were; how he could swing his whole weight on its branches and how they wouldn't break. He used to do the same with his father, swing on his arm—when he was around. Peter never played like that with his mom, though; he knew her arms were too thin.

Peter imagined that the ground was lava and the many rocks along the path were the safe stepping stones to keep his feet from disintegrating. The soft dirt road led him straight home from school, so he had plenty of time to create and play in his pretend world. He looked forward to playing pretend on his daily walk home; the rocks and trees made very good props. Today, Peter noticed something new along the path! A young pear tree, newly planted, just off to the side of the dirt road. He paused his imaginary show and stopped in his tracks, to gaze at this lonesome tree; he liked making new friends. Peter studied it for a moment and thought, hmm you're a bit skinny...  probably shouldn't climb on you... yet. He knew he couldn't swing on these branches; it had arms like mom⁠— thin. Peter watched the bright green leaves rustle softly in the wind and wondered what kind of tree it could be. He imagined apples, oranges, cherries, a mix of all fruits; a fruit punch tree! Maybe a candy tree? There were so many possibilities... Clouds pass by overhead as he pondered this and suddenly snapped back to reality— he should get home.

50 years pass by and Peter is back to his hometown after seeing the world. Peter had found love, lost it; found love again and lost it again. His life has been full of good and bad times and Peter had very little regrets. Peter knew this about himself and was very content with this knowing. Now, a weathered and very well-traveled old man, he's back home with a heavy heart. He came for his mother's funeral; she'd died in her sleep. He never imagined life without his mother, but now he didn't have to. She was gone. She'd outlived all of her friends and family, except for him. Peter reminisced on his walk back from the funeral. He took the same back roads and he remembered it all too well; maybe this will be the last time I'll visit this sleepy old town, he thought with a wry smile. Peter found only fond memories of his mother; she was the most gentle and loving and happy woman he'd ever known. His childhood was filled with laughter and joy and so much love, that despite him being all over the world for most of his life, he felt safe everywhere. Peter looked up to the sky and gave a silent thanks to the clouds, for the chance in this life, to be surrounded by love.

Everything felt so peaceful today, more so than usual, maybe it was the summer breeze... it brought peace to his heart. He never did find any other place in the world where summer days were so... perfect. Maybe I'll stay here a while, he thought again with a different kind of smile. Peter found his way down a familiar path, once just a dirt road with many rocks, now laid with fresh red bricks. This actually gives it a nice look, Peter thought to himself, no more rocks to trip over. He chuckled once more at the memories of himself, hopping on those old rocks, avoiding imaginary lava. He walked slowly on the crisp brick path, taking it all in. He thought about that pear tree. He remembered it had the sweetest fruit. He remembered when he was a teenager, he'd come back to visit again and again and he'd bring pears from that tree back home for mom. She loved those pears.

He suddenly felt so tired now, after all this reminiscing. The pear tree was still here! Much to Peter's surprise, it crept up along the side of the path. The mere sight of it made his heart cry with joy; Peter wasn't looking at just a tree, he was looking at an old friend. The tree was so big now, much bigger than him. It had no fruit, but it was still so strong. The leaves had turn darker green and the trunk was much wider than he remembered. A single tear escaped from Peter's eye as he stopped to visit with the old tree. He decided, oh what the heck, and sat down to rest for a bit; leaning on the trunk to support his aching back. "ahhh, hello again.. old friend," he said aloud as he leaned his head back against the tree, now much stronger than him. He remembered how he used to swing and smiled. He couldn't swing today, for his arms were frail and thin. Peter took a deep, long breath in, sighed, and looked up to thank god again for this wonderful moment, this beautiful time with his old friend.

Peter slowly closed his eyes with a smile and drifted off into a peaceful and eternal sleep.