In the Garden of Hesperide

Danny came to see me today, Sara. You would have been proud. He was all dressed up in his Navy blues, his white cap and metal pins bright as ever. He seemed happy. Not as angry. I think you were right, as always. I think he's going to be ok.

 I've become nostalgic in my old age, spending my days and nights reminiscing about you and others, remembering how it was all those years ago. I remember some of those wild nights in our youth, and it makes me chuckle. We were the worst, weren't we, the trees that make us groan now? How we changed, you and me. Each storm we weathered made us older, wiser, and ever stronger. 

The first time I met you, I'll never forget it. I felt you were the most elegant sapling I had ever seen. Your very presence brought peace and joy. I am so thankful for my time with you. Grateful for sweet Mary and her apple. I still think of Mary. Her bright red coat and curly golden hair flapping in the breeze, and her cheeks rosy as anything. She sat next to me for a while, her parents just down the hill. She took an apple out of her pocket and munched away, her little hands tracing my roots through the dirt. The autumn air was cool, and she shivered a bit; I did my best to shelter her from the wind. As she laid her head against me, I rocked a little, and as she nodded off, I hummed a little lullaby:

Sleep, my child, sleep

Your father tends the sheep,

Your mother shakes the apple tree,

As falls down a dream for thee

Sleep, my child, sleep

I remember when she woke, enjoying a sense of purpose fulfilled, as if the universe had sent me here for this one moment, to be a resting place for this sweet little girl. I watched her walk back down the hill to her parents and then drive away. It was the first time I remember wishing I could move, that my roots would pull themselves up and bring me along wherever little Mary went. Under the stars, I made a wish. Since the universe had not given me legs, I wished that it would send me someone to love who would stay with me forever. What I didn't realize was that my wish had already been answered. Only a few feet away, Mary had dropped her apple core, and you were on your way. 

I remember the first spring you bloomed, my Sara. You were radiant, veiled in white. Your slender branches reached for the sky, and your sweet smell filled the air. You enraptured me immediately, and I recognized I would never love another. Your kindness and gentle spirit comforted me often, and it was my pride to shelter you from the harshest storms. As we grew together, our roots and branches intertwined, and we were forever inseparable. 

It was autumn, though, which one I can't remember when sweet little Mary returned. She had grown into a young woman, her blond hair and hazel eyes beautiful as ever. It shocked me to see her after so many years and I was elated that she remembered me. She smiled and remarked at how strong I looked and then turned to admire you. She found your beauty as remarkable as I had and told us what a lovely couple we made. Before she left, she pulled out a paper and pencil and drew the two of us, standing tall, together and proud. When she finished, she smiled and left, a hint of mischief in her eyes. Had she told us her plans at that moment, we would have laughed in disbelief while hoping they would come true. 

Mary visited a few times that summer and brought an easel and paints with her, sitting for hours, painting our curves, knots, beauty, and roughness. She captured our essence, our fears, and our hopes. It seemed as if she appreciated us better than anyone. As she painted, she would talk, telling us her own dreams for the future, confiding in us her deepest secrets. Mary had been nervous, leaving her home to attend college, and it had been her first week away when she had come back to us. She had been contemplating leaving the school and returning home when she found us again. She said we had been a comfort to her, made her feel less alone, and she had stayed on. Every day, she packed up her paints and thanked us. 

It was not long before Mary had brought with her a friend. A boy, he seemed the same age as her and was as handsome as she was pretty. His dark hair and dark eyes gave him a look of sophistication. He'd lay back on the grass and recite poetry as Mary painted. They seemed happy as they kissed and caressed, losing themselves in each other's eyes and falling asleep in the afternoon heat. We were delighted to shade them and make beds with our leaves. We called songbirds to sing for them, and your delicious apples filled their bellies. It was a wonderful time. 

The winter snows fell, and Mary returned, painting our bare branches in dark blacks and browns. We noticed something was wrong. Her smile disappeared, and I thought I could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. This continued for weeks as Christmas passed and Mary returned home. It was May before she returned. Her face was a mess as tears fell to the ground. Her sobs broke our hearts as she cried in our arms. He'd left her, she said, for another prettier girl. We both were aghast and remarked at this boy's stupid act, for no one on earth was prettier than our Mary. It was the second time I wished I could walk. I wanted with all my might to charge down our hill and find the boy and show him the pain he'd caused our girl. But you, my darling, cooled my rage and reminded me of our duty. So as Mary laid her head down and wept, we rocked in the wind. Her eyes drooped closed, and as she fell asleep, we sang together our lullaby:    

Sleep, my child, sleep

Your father tends the sheep,

Your mother shakes the apple tree,

As falls down a dream for thee

Sleep, my child, sleep 

Another year had passed when Mary told us she was leaving. She would finish her schooling across the country, and though we were sad to see her go, we were so proud of her. If I could cry, I tell you, I would have caused a flood. Before she left, she knelt and buried something in the dirt around my roots, a little box with one of her paintings folded up inside. She stood and wrapped her hands around me and whispered thank you. We knew no matter where our Mary went, she would remember us, and we would never forget her. 

Four winters came and passed as we grew older and observed the world go on. We enjoyed the peace of our little hill, tucked away from the growing world around us. But a part of me, and I suspect of you, felt empty. Something was missing, and while we both recognized it without saying it, we considered it impossible she'd ever return. But this separation didn't last, as Mary returned with a surprise. She carried with her a small child, a boy dressed in blue. His dirty blond hair and rosy cheeks made us smile, and he giggled as he ran circles between us. Mary smiled, and I knew she had something in mind. Her eyes twinkled with hope and joy. 

Soon builders came, and for a while, our peace was gone. But we couldn't have been happier. The house was small but perfect for two. And the last thing she did was to hang a small swing between us. I lifted one rope as you raised the other, and together we made it a special spot. Most afternoons, Danny would swing for hours, and we felt whole once more to bring a child joy again. It was the missing piece. As Danny grew, our strength remained, his legs reaching higher and higher with each passing year. And some nights, the clear ones, when all the stars came out, Mary would visit us, holding her son in her arms, and we'd rock them and sing our little song.

As Danny grew, his time with us dwindled. We knew he wouldn't stay forever, but a tree can still hope. From our hill, we saw him leave every morning for school. Even when he'd forgotten about us, we still learned what he was up to. His mother told us every day. She'd begun painting again, and under our shade, she told us all about him. She loved him, of course, but she was worried. His friends weren't the best, and he'd stopped listening to her long ago. He wasn't like her, she said; he's no interest in art. Even though she didn't say it, I noticed this hurt her the most. He wants to join the Navy, she told us, spend his days on the water, far away from here. We were sad for her and for Danny and for ourselves. We had tried our best and given as much joy as possible, but sometimes a child needs to find it on their own. 

Soon Danny was gone, and the place was grayer. The laughter was missing, and I felt hollow. Of course, Mary remained and kept with her work, but her painting had lost some of its colors. Our limbs, now old, had drooped, and we saw our strength lessen with each stormy gale. We kept up our spirits, though, for the sake of Mary. I wish now that I'd recognized the toll it took on you. 

The first thing we caught was how thin her hair was. I saw in her face something was wrong. Her visits grew less frequent, and we followed as doctor after doctor visited the house. I wish we had known. The last day she would come. What we would have said or done. We knew it was the end when Danny returned. The house grew silent, and the sky incredibly gray. The rain fell, and the wind howled. We watched the light in her bedroom window and waited. 

Around 3 o'clock in the morning, my worst fears came true. I'd dozed off for a moment, as you told me you'd keep watch. I heard a great gust of wind, and a crack split the air. I watched in helpless horror as you fell to the ground, your graceful limbs snapping and cracking. I couldn't imagine how it had happened until I looked back at the house and realized the light had turned off. I knew it then that your heart had broken, and I wanted nothing more than to join you. You were gone, both of you. 

Danny exploded from the house, ignoring the chilly rain stinging his face. I watched him climb the hill and stand looking at the mangled mess of wood and rope that had been his mother's swing. He screamed in anger and kicked at me. I screamed in rage and shook my limbs at the sky. We were in pain. Our loves had left us forever. After a while, he fell to his knees and put his back up against me. The rain continued. But neither of us cared much. I guess at that moment, we both wanted to die. He fell asleep there, and through my tears, I recognized my duty wasn't over, so I wept as I sang our lullaby once more:

Sleep, my child, sleep

Your father tends the sheep,

Your mother shakes the apple tree,

As falls down a dream for thee

Sleep, my child, sleep 

We were both meant to carry on, it seems. A week later, Danny had Mary buried just next to me. It was the most tremendous honor of my life to be chosen to mark her last resting place. They had taken you away, piece by piece. With each cut, I wanted to scream. When they brought Mary to me, they lay her in a casket, and I shook with tears. There lay Mary, our beautiful Mary, in a beautiful applewood coffin. I knew your lovely fragrance and cried and cried, knowing the three of us would be together forever. As they dug her a grave, a little box emerged from the dirt. Danny opened it, and inside was the folded painting Mary had left all those years ago. Mary and a child were sitting beneath a great hickory tree and a beautiful apple tree in the picture.  

Danny came to see me today, Sara. You would have been proud. He was all dressed up in his Navy blues, his white cap and metal pins bright as ever. It's been twenty years since that night. I've grown old and weary and even droopier, but I'm still standing, watching over the two of you. Danny told us he'd settled down, got two kids of his own now. Said he was looking to move somewhere quiet. The house is tattered. No one else ever moved in. I think Danny could make it a beautiful home again. He seemed happy. Not as angry. I think you were right, as always. I think he's going to be ok. I think we both are.