Lemons, Legends, and Lessons

“This is the legendary tree?! You’ve got to be kidding me!” 

The Keeper glared. “Yes. Do not disrespect it.”

“It’s a lemon tree with a hole in it…” 

“A legendary lemon tree that holds the secret of life within,” the Keeper corrected.

The young man looked the tree over once more. He pointed to a branch and the words carved into it. “It’s name is Faloola.”

“And yours is Gary. Now I suggest you treat Faloola kindly.” With that, the Keeper strode over to a rock and plopped herself down.

Gary grumbled. He couldn’t believe he had come all this way for… Faloola. The tree was tall, he would give it that.  Leaves, glossy and bright, adorned the branches that stretched over his head, filtering the sunlight into streams that patterned the patchy grass at his feet. Ribbons hung from the boughs with ripe lemons. The yellow fruit was scattered across the ground, including the path to the tree’s trunk and the hollow space in its center.

With no better idea, Gary approached the tree, doubtful that it could hold the secret of life. When he reached the hole, he peered in. 

It was like Faloola was a hoarder and stored her junk in her trunk. Various knick-knacks and bobbles piled on top of one another amid dried flowers and nuts and acorns. If he focused, he could make out a wooden box, a necklace, a pig figurine, a bottle of water, a pair of gloves, a hat, and more paper than he knew what to do with.

Gary clenched a fist and felt his bracelet strain against his wrist. What had he expected? A golden light pouring forth and a spirit declaring the secret of life like a newsie boy? Extra, extra! Improve your existence! The secret of life is a pile of junk! 

He looked over to the Keeper of the tree. She had chosen to help him, guide him to the tree on this hill. On their journey, she had championed this tree, spoken of its miracles, and attested to the others that returned simply to thank it. Now, she looked back at him, eyebrows raised, before her attention shifted.

Gary frowned. There were more visitors. Great. More enlightened people. 

An old woman approached, a little girl at her side. She hobbled right past Gary and placed a palm on the tree. She mumbled something he couldn’t hear before looking into the hole. The old woman broke into a wide smile.

“What is it, Nana?” the little girl asked, swinging a pouch in her hands.

The old woman gestured for the pouch. She reached in and produced a green stone, smooth and oval. “Today is the day,” she said and slipped the stone into the tree’s hole. When she retracted her hand, the pig figurine was clasped between her fingers.

The little girl gasped. “Really?! The tree is helping us today?!”

“Indeed.” 

The old woman motioned for the little girl to sit with the Keeper. When they met, they shared a look. Right after, all three sets of eyes fell on Gary.

“What?”

“Good luck, young man,” was all the old woman said.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask the Keeper or the old woman what they meant. He had half a mind to leave, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity. The tree was supposed to help them somehow. That was what he had come for. Perhaps it just required some patience.

So Gary took a seat on a soft patch of grass and waited as the others did, twirling his bracelet around his wrist. Maybe the tree’s wisdom needed to be absorbed over time. He stared up at the canopy of leaves, finding nothing but lemons and ribbons. It didn’t help that people kept arriving. He counted seventy-eight turns before another visitor arrived. Another ninety-four and another one came too. 

Gary was dumbfounded as more people came to the tree, each thanking it, placing an item into the hole and taking one out. They would finish with wide grins on their faces and take a seat. He didn’t know what they were waiting for until the old woman stood for a man in blue that removed the green stone she had put in.

Immediately they embraced. It was all the others needed before they joined the commotion. 

Finally, the man in blue looked at Gary. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Gary,” the old woman said in a tone he distinctly didn’t like. “He’s new.”

“Ahh,” the group chorused.

“Do you need help?” asked a young lady that had withdrawn knitting needles from the tree. 

Gary involuntarily gripped his bracelet. “I--” he forced the rest of the words out-- “don’t understand.”

“The tree?” the young lady asked, flashing a kind smile. 

“It’s supposed to hold the secret of life, right?” Gary said. 

The young lady nodded. “In a way.” She gestured to him to come closer and join the group. “I’m Layla, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Introductions were made with the group, much to Gary’s impatience. 

The old woman was Edna--she had come with her granddaughter Elise--and she had exchanged her jade stone for a pig figurine. The man in blue that she had greeted was Kai, a sculptor that exchanged a hand-shaped sculpture for Edna’s jade stone. Sam had brought a photograph for a wooden box that Tristan had left months ago. Now, Tristan had taken a necklace and replaced it with wooden knitting needles that Layla now held.

“So, you just come here once in a while and put something into the tree and take something out?” Gary clarified.

The group nodded.

“And that’s the secret of life?”

“More or less,” Layla told him.

Gary scoffed. That was just great. He had come all this way for a ridiculous trading system. He should have left once he saw Faloola. How much more could he have expected?

“I assume that isn’t what you were hoping for…”

“Not even close.”

“Put that attitude away, young man,” old-woman Edna said sharply. 

“What she means to say--” Layla interrupted, “what are you looking for? What brought you here?”

Gary shrugged. “Something more than a Secret Santa lemon tree.”

“Now listen here.” Old-woman Edna’s voice was like a slap. “This tree has been here longer than you’ve been alive. You show it some respect.”

“Yeah? What’s so special about it?”

“Gary,” Layla spoke before Edna could actually slap him for his insolence. “A couple years ago, I lost my grandmother.”

“I’m sorry,” Gary said, almost instinctively when the pang in his chest registered. It called for his attention as it had been over and over for the past months. With effort, he managed to refocus on Layla’s words.

“I lived with her my entire life. She raised me, supported me, and always strived to give me a happy life.”

“As we do,” Edna said approvingly, giving her granddaughter a side hug.

Layla acknowledged her comment and continued, “I was lost without her. I became depressed, so a friend of mine brought me here. She said it was a place for healing and discovery. I witnessed travellers exchange their items for another and did so myself. At first, I was confused by the mess inside the tree, until I saw a scarf. It was so similar to the ones my grandmother had made. She loved to knit; imagined that with every stitch she wove in a bit of her love and hope, and could share that with those she gave her scarves to. It reminded me of how hopeful she had been and how she had wanted my life to be.

“It was the thing I needed to remember to start my journey back to a fulfilling life. The scarf was the tree’s gift to me. So, I traded all I had on me at the time--pepper spray from my keychain.”

“And the girl who took that pepper spray said it gave her the confidence to live her life freely,” the Keeper said. “A life without the fear of the dangers of the streets.”

“You’re telling me that this tree miraculously knows what we need and has it for us?” Gary asked. It seemed ridiculous. He had looked into it and found nothing but scraps of other people’s lives. None of it would do him any good.

The Keeper shook her head. “The tree simply guides us, inspires us. It is the host of a trading ritual that facilitates that process. Edna’s stone inspired Kai to sculpt and his sculptures bring her joy. The items call to individuals, connecting them to each other and to the tree, bringing them in touch with their own lives.”

“And that’s the secret of life? Human connection? A connection to nature?” Gary asked.

“Perhaps,” said the Keeper with a sly smile. “In part.”

Gary looked to the rest of the group for help. It was the person he liked the least that spoke.

“You’re lucky I’m here to teach my granddaughter,” old-woman Edna said to him, grumbling about having to connect everything for him. She turned to her granddaughter, and in a much gentler tone, explained.

“Gary is right that we are all connected--you and me and all the people, but also to the earth and nature. But the ritual is a trade for a reason. We must give where we take in life. It is the only way to maintain it. If we only took from the tree, it could not connect people the way it can now. If we continued to take--its fruit, its water, its space--then the tree would die.”

“Then Gary can’t learn to give where he takes, huh, Nana?” granddaughter Elise said. “We’d take away his learning!”

Gary was too lost in thought to be offended.

Give where you take.

It was such a simple concept, so familiar. He swallowed hard, recalling how the one who had said that, lived that and given everything… had been taken.

“What do you need, Gary?” Elise asked. 

Gary shook his head. The others urged him to approach the tree once more. 

With each step, it felt like the tree was pulling him in, welcoming him. When he peered into the hole, he saw almost the same mess of items. But this time, something called to him. On top of the mess of papers, laid a photograph.

It depicted palm trees against a clear sky, a beach with pristine white sand. He reached for it, fingers closing on the thick paper. He had been taken to a place like this once, a gift from his best friend.

There was that pang in his chest again, an insistent reminder of what he had lost--that stubborn, brave fire-fighter of a best friend that always had to risk her neck for others. But she had been the one who guided him, told him off for being a jerk. She had been like a sister since they met in elementary school. 

Gary scoffed in disbelief. His best friend had always been the giving sort, almost enough for the both of them. Just as Gary had taken enough for the both of them. He supposed he would have to change that now. Leave it to him to need a tree named Faloola to tell him that.

“Thank you,” he mumbled to the tree. 

Another glance at the photo reminded him of the ritual. With surprising ease, Gary slipped his bracelet off of his wrist. Like so many other things in his life, it had been given to him by his best friend. Maybe somebody could use a friend too. His best friend would approve of that.

“Yeah, yeah, Faloola. I got it.” Gary said, giving the tree a pat. “Give where you take.”