Under a Tree

When I was a sophomore in high school, I never cared about my grades nor having/ making friends. I was always the second choice. I was okay with that until I met a certain someone under a tree. I grew up and became an adult. I can say that I fell in love with that certain someone when I was sixteen years old, but I did not start dating until I was nineteen. Truthfully, I did not know what love was at that age. I do not particularly miss my high school years, but there are two reasons I do miss high school. What I miss from my high school years is sports and the certain someone that I met. Every other day I would see him eating some fruit sitting by a tree. He would always have a book in his hands. We met under that same tree he always sat next to and automatically became friends. As we became friends, we would ask each other questions and have conversations. "Where do you see yourself in five years," "What do you want to do once you graduate, and do you think we'll still be friends." My response to his questions was always, "we'll just see what happens." All our sophomore days, we waited for each other. One day I noticed he had a journal. I asked him, "do you write." His response was just simply "sometimes." Like he did not care much. Days went by, and I asked him again. "What do you write in that book." He just shrugged his shoulders and said, "just stuff." I said, "what kind of stuff." I noticed he became uncomfortable, so I told him. "if it's personal, then I understand." He said, "Since you are asking all the time, I'll just tell you." We went on for days talking about how he wanted to be a writer, and I was encouraging him to share more of his writing. I would be coming out of basketball practice, and he would come out of tutoring. Our meeting spot was under that tree. As we waited on the school bus, I asked him, "how do you feel about your writing." He told me, "I'm not ready to share just yet." He got on the bus, and I told him, "Share your writing with me, and I'll share mine with you." He was surprised and yelled, "You want to write too. I just winked at him and went home. Our sophomore year ended, and he ended up moving away at the beginning of our junior year. On his last day, he gave me a letter and told me, "Read this when you go home and thank you for your honest feedback on my writing." That same day we did everything the same as other days. I was sad inside. We said our goodbyes, and he left. I went on with basketball practice, and as soon as I got to the girl's locker room. Tears were falling down my face, and there was a hole in my chest. I did not wait until I got home to read the letter. The letter said, "Alice, thank you for being my friend, thank you for helping my writing and encouraging me. Truthfully, I lied am not moving schools. I am moving because my mom passed away due to cancer. I would spend my time by the pear tree because it was my mother's favorite fruit. I hope we meet again once we become adults. Thank you for being there when I needed someone, and I think you were right about one of our conversations about if I believe in guardian angels. You were right my mom put you in my life. I honestly believe it now because my mother's name is Alice too." As I cried, holding my letter in my hands. I screamed, "you idiot, I lost my grandmother the same year I meet you." My last two years of high school went by a blink of an eye. I never saw him again. I did hear that he passed away as well in an accident. I believe I was twenty-one. I cried. Now as I am going to my little sister's basketball games. I always pass by the tree. I never knew nor would have guessed that the tree we met was a pear tree. My grandmother's favorite fruit as well.