The Pear Tree

Once upon a time a young man met with his mother for a birthday brunch. Sam, for that is what we shall call this young man, had become a very wealthy business owner. His mother joined him on his large veranda where she was served a number of delicacies by his polite, but condescending butler. 

Over the years, Sam’s mother had watched him earn more and more money, and build more and more additions onto his house, and hire more and more people to attend to his every need, and she knew that there was nothing she could give him for his 30th birthday that he could not get for himself. So, instead of trying to buy him something fancy or exciting, she decided to give him something unique.

He frowned in confusion when she presented him with a little sapling. “A tree?” he said, curling his lip, slightly.

His mother smiled gently, not at all surprised by his reaction. “Yes, it's a pear tree. And it will be simply lovely in your yard!”

“A pear tree,” he repeated, still bemused.

“I do love pear trees!” she exclaimed, not allowing his response to daunt her in the least. “They are so lovely in the spring when all the flowers blossom. And so nice in the fall, when they droop with sweet, juicy pears! I just knew it would be perfect for you.”

And so, Sam's mother helped him plant the tree in his front yard. He felt that he could do nothing about it. After all, he did love his mother, and he knew she would be disappointed if the pear tree wasn't taken care of and wasn't in his front yard.

Alas, it was only a year later that his mother died. After the tears stopped, he realized there was one bright spot in his sorrow. He could now remove the pear tree. 

He didn't feel quite comfortable destroying it, so he asked his gardener to transplant it into the forest that grew just beyond the edge of his manicured lawns. Soon, he forgot entirely of the tree's existence, as is so often the case when something is no longer seen.

Years passed, as they do in this world, and Sam met and married a beautiful lady with a heart of...well, silver, I'd say, though I can be no judge. A child soon joined their family, and though he grew quickly, his curiosity and adventurous spirit seemed to grow even faster. His heart also grew, and he loved to care for all people and all things as best he could.

One day, the little boy was examining a brightly-colored beetle, which had settled on a blade of grass near his feet. He glanced back up and realized his nanny had wandered toward the house with the cook, and neither of them were paying him any mind at all.

For ever so long as he could remember, the forest, so near to where he now stood, had beckoned the little boy, each tree reaching out it's soft needles and bright leaves toward him as if to welcome him into their shade. He did enjoy the many shade trees in the manicured lawn which he knew so well, but something about that wild forest was more enticing than he could quite bear. So, after another glance at his nanny, he scampered toward the trees, promising himself he would only take a look and hurry back, so that she need not worry.

His breathing shallowed as the excitement welled in his chest. He was finally going into the woods! The wild trees, so fresh and alive, thrilled him. The small, perfectly shaped trees in his yard were not nearly so free and vibrant. This—this was a true garden! 

He reached a gentle hand to caress the bark of each tree as he passed it. Every small flower or fallen twig or mushroom he passed received the full attention of his childish scrutiny. A happy sigh escaped from his lips as he sat down on a small, mossy rock and leaned back. Snippets of blue and sunshine peaked through the puzzle of leaves and branches shivering above his head in the breeze. He smiled and slowly turned to peer in each direction.

Suddenly, his attention was caught by...a leaf? No, it couldn't be a leaf. It barely moved with the wind that caused the leaves to dance. Is it...? A pear! And more pears! A whole tree full of pears! He let out a delighted cry and ran to grab one of the fruit. On his second hop, he snagged one of the pears and bit into it with the greatest delight. Juice filled his mouth and trickled out as the sweetness melted on his tongue. I wonder how this pear tree came to be here, he thought.

The little boy had found his grandmother's pear tree. The gardener, commissioned to replant the tree, had simply tossed it into the woods, thinking none would ever be the wiser. 

The little tree, lying on the ground just a few yards from the gardens of its former home, did not give up easily. The sun, peeking through the other trees, encouraged it to lift up its head and grow taller. It's roots had slowly found their way into the ground, digging deeply to soak in the nutrients from the earth below. Day by day, year by year, that little tree grew, becoming stronger and stronger to soak up more and more nutrients, in spite of the other trees competing for them. Every fall its branches drooped with luscious pears, refreshing the rare traveler that passed beneath its limbs. The tree, so well cultivated in its youth, yet thrown into intense adversity while still young, had overcome that drawback and reached upward toward the life-giving sun. It now thrived, producing pears sweeter than any tree that was fully cultivated could ever grow.

As the little boy savored each delicious bite, he examined the gnarled tree. All the trees around it grew straight and true toward the heavens, but this tree grew up from the roots, then its trunk curved, stretching across the ground for a few feet before bending back upwards in it's thirst for sunlight.

A voice startled him from his contemplation. He turned and ran back to where his nanny stood, looking around for him.

The next day, the little boy took his father to see the tree. Sam rarely took the time to go outside with his son and would normally never venture into the woods off of his property. But when he heard of a pear tree, his mind vibrated with memories of his mother and the tree that had stood in his front yard in the spot where a beautiful, but thorny rosebush now grew.

A lump rose into Sam's throat as the pear tree came into view. The sight of the gnarled tree struck his heart, causing him to realize how much he had pushed his family out of his life. If he didn't take time with them and make them a priority, would they, too, become gnarled and twisted?

He lifted his young son onto his shoulders so the boy could reach more of the pears. The little boy handed the first one he grabbed to Sam, who bit into gingerly and hummed with delight when he discovered how fresh and sweet it tasted. He and his son sat down on the trunk, where it stretched across the ground, and Sam told his little boy the story of the tree. Both sat for a few moments when he finished, letting the sounds of the forest flow around them.

Dad?” the little boy held out his hand to his father.

Yes?” Sam asked, engulfing the small hand in his own.

“Can we put the tree back in our yard?”

Sam reached out a finger to follow the pattern of the tree's bark. The trunk was bent. It would look terribly out of place next to the straight and carefully trimmed trees and bushes already in his yard. But it was his mother's tree, he thought, looking into his son's eyes. And it was beautiful in its own unique and wild way. “You know, I never liked that rosebush right there, anyway,” he told his son. “Let's put the tree right back where it was before!”

Father and son walked hand in hand back to the shed, where they themselves got the necessary tools and returned to the forest to transplant the tree one more time, back to its place in the front yard. 

It fast became their tree. They always worked on it together. They spent hours sitting on its sideways trunk together. They ate its sweet, juicy pears together every fall. And anyone who visited Sam's home paused by the pear tree, surprised at it's bent shape amidst the perfectly manicured gardens, and even more surprised at the wild strength and beauty that the misshapen pear tree possessed.