Pondering Under the Pear Tree

Simple places never feel simple to the people living in them. Their allure usually can never be placed on one obvious feature, such as a monument or national park. There are hardly ever lines of people drawn in from all across the country; there is nothing out of the ordinary to create a buzz with tourists. These simple places, however, are homes to finite pieces of the human experience that have embedded themselves into the very framework of their environment. People travel all over the world, searching for that one special thing, but maybe that special thing was hidden in the ordinary all along.

***

Sitting under the pear trees, Sam felt as if time had stopped. The sun had risen into the sky and casted a warm glow onto Sam's face. She sat atop a blanket under the trees, taking in everything before her, as if she had never seen it before. Her appreciation for her grandma's house grew with age, and she was beginning to realize how different life would be moving forward.

The large country house stood firmly in the middle of the land, at the end of the driveway to Sam's right. She could barely see into the windows but looked at them anyways. Across from the pear trees was a large corral, and two horses grazed peacefully on grass. In between the corral and the house was the barn, the pool, the pool house, and in the very back, a chicken coop. The Sierra Nevada mountains were a powerful backdrop, a strong contrast to the soft features of the land below. Sam grew up loving this place. She had memories of chasing her brothers across the fields, swimming for hours in the pool, running out the front door to watch the snow fall. This place was full of life, even in its quietest moments.

Time seemed to move quickly, like she blinked and all those childhood memories were just that, memories. She found herself frantically trying to make her world slow down. But here, she was instantly transported back in time. This place was a time warp, a place fixated on one moment in time. She could be here and the pressures of life were gone. Breathing in the fresh mountain air, she closed her eyes for a moment. She focused her mind on this feeling. She exhaled. What a difference several years has made.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement coming from the front door. She looked closer to see who it was, and smiled. Her grandma, Judy, made her way down the front staircase and onto the driveway. She took slow strides towards Sam and the pear trees. Sam watched her walk. She noticed things abut her grandma she had never noticed before. She noticed how her pace had slowed down since she last remembered. She noticed her knee brace, she noticed her glasses. She noticed that everything about her had slowed down. As a kid, Sam never picked up on these details, only the way she smiled when she made dinner for Sam, or how her eyes twinkled when she told Sam a story. But as Sam herself had grown, she noticed everything else around her was growing older too. The illusions of childhood were gone.

"Hi sweetheart, how's it going out here?" Judy said as she took a seat next to Sam.

"Really nice, I'm just enjoying the fresh air before I leave," Sam replied.

"It's peaceful out here, isn't it," Judy said as she looked out to the mountains.

"Yeah, it is."

They sat in silence for awhile, taking in the place, but also taking in each other. Not only has time aged their physical bodies, but time had aged their souls too, forging an even closer bond than when Sam was little. They sat under the pear tree together, admiring the ever-present beauty the land had to offer.

"When you were little, you never wanted to leave here," Judy said, finally breaking the silence.

"I don't blame myself, it's so peaceful, it's like an escape."

"It's always been that for you," Judy said, "a place for you to reconnect with what truly matters."

Sam turned her gaze from her surroundings to her grandma. They were seated so close, and Sam admired her. Sam noticed how her eyes sparkled, somehow even more than she remembered. She noticed how her voice felt so familiar, like a warm blanket after a long day of playing in the snow. She noticed how she felt more aware of her energy, and how illuminating it was. Sam was growing, and her grandma was aging, and what kept them close was their desire to change, how they leaned into life's unexpected twists and turns. Sam learned early on from her grandma how to trust in the universe and live each day to its fullest.

Suddenly, Sam felt lighter. All the weight she had been carrying about change and passing of time was lifted from her shoulders. She felt like she was giving her worries to the mountains, the river, the sky, and all of nature was consoling her. She leaned her head all the way back and made eye contact with a big pear hanging low. Sam reached up and plucked it off the branch.

"I think the scariest part of growing up is the unknown," Sam blurted out.

Judy smiled.

"Of course it is, but that's also the best part. Life is full of unknowns, and it's constantly changing. All we have to do is live."

She moved closer to Sam and embraced her in a warm hug. The two smiled at each other and then at the mountains. Sam took in every element of this moment, cherishing it in her heart as a fond memory before it was even over, because she knew it would quickly be one. The thought of this moment being no longer attainable didn't feel daunting anymore; she felt acceptance. Acceptance of what would be, and what never would be again. Looking around, Sam noticed all the remarkably simple things that made this place special. It would always be special to Sam.