Kirschen

The groceries were once again not fastened. I should not have put them up. I should have put them behind the seat. Now they are only waiting for one small braking maneuver to throw everything overboard, possible even some milk up my neck. It isn't like I already get enough regurgitated milk on my chest, or anywhere else for that matter. I look over to the little time-demon that gives me so much joy. A second too long I stare at him and notice that the car in front of me stopped. I jerk the car to a stop and the bag in the back falls over. A can falls upon another and wakes Jan. Great. Now he's awake. His siren wails on as I try to focus on the road and shush him to his sweet sleep again.

"Shh shh it's OK! It's al OK!" He seems to relax a little bit, but barely. Our eyes meet as I still wait for the light to turn green. It's a brief second but enough for him to realize that: no, it is not OK at all! The wailing continues and I continue my own song of calm and serenity. Sadly, to no avail. All the way home he ends up screaming. Luckily we were only four traffic lights away from home.

As we get out I notice that the cherry tree is beginning to blossom. The leaves will be all over the lawn, never mind the cherries. They'll be strewn across it and rotting because Arthur says he will pick them but never does. I grunt as I shapeshift my way from the car to the door to make sure Jan doesn't wake up again. He managed to dose off. The car doors remain open until I make it inside the house, out of fear that it might awaken him. I open the door and Arthur meets me.

"Honey, I-" I shake my head violently. He better not dare. I point at Jan and he nods, his glasses hanging on with all their strength to the tip of his nose as he gingerly takes Jan. Luckily Betty, our Labrador, didn't notice I've arrived yet. She loves to bark hello, something we brought her up with and I regret, has stuck to this day. No, I don't regret it really. It's cute and I love to hear it, but right now I am glad her old butt isn't paying attention. I swipe my forehead and step on a cherry, as it oozes its content onto my sandals. I curse but silently under my breath, as even outside and out of earshot I am afraid my movements could stir Jan awake again. I take the bags and lock the car, and take one last look at the lawn. What a mess.

* * *

"How is he?" I ask my beloved, and sweet husband, as he lays down next to me on the couch exhausted.

"Oh, you know. Whiny. Complaining. Vomiting. Shitting himself." He sighs and flips the channels on the TV as his head rests on my lap.

"Not how you are doing, how Jan is!" He and I laugh and he mutters a tired complaint.

"Ah ha ha! You are on fire today. Work was exhausting as well. The clients they just... They don't know what they want."

I smile and nod "Yeah, who really knows what they - wait stop I want to watch this."

"Isn't this an old episode?" He replies.

Nodding again "Yeah but it's a good one."

We both smile as I pet his head and we watch the show. Well, soon it's just me. Arthur dozes off often now. He used to hate naps, now he takes them with Jan and loves them. I know he loves them, he looks so rested afterward, but he'd never tell me he enjoys them. I take a look at the cherry tree that is basked in the night shine of the street light. Some of the cherries underneath it and among it's leaves glisten slightly. Tomorrow is Saturday, perhaps I can help Arthur out and just pick them myself. He would appreciate it, and he can then make the cherry liquor out of it.

* * *

The weather was great and Arthur said he would take Jan for a walk. He jokes around and does some stretches near the gate of the front yard.

"No cheeky business, alright you two?"

Arthur does a lunge and smiles and winks at me "Two? Betty is coming, too!"

"Awww the three of you! OK love, enjoy!" I wave to them, my garden gloves in my hand and he waves back enthusiastically. Arthur gaa-gaa-goo-goo's as he plays with one of the socks he already managed to pull off. The sock flies off in an arc and Arthur doesn't even notice. I open my mouth to say something but he looks so happy, as Betty trots off behind them. I decide to take a look at the garden first. It turns out there aren't that many cherries on the ground as I thought.

A few of them are strewn here and there and I decide to start with them. Sadly, the garden gloves seem to be too thick and stop me. I take them off and start putting them in a bucket next to me. I notice soon that my back won't enjoy the game I am playing, so I start using my knees more to bend down and get the cherries. There, only about two handfuls were laying about. The cherry tree itself isn't that big, about 3 meters tall and produces beautifully delicious dark red cherries. They seem to have the perfect hue now. I take one of them and take a long hard look at it. It is flawless by any standard that cherries might have. I imagine they have some certain industrial standards? I don't mind for those now, I look at how it looks now and how it feels to me. It feels perfect. Round and supple, not too hard or soft. I pop it into my mouth and as I bit down gingerly, so as not to hit the seed, it melts in my mouth. It's sweetness is utter bliss to my taste buds as I let it linger for a half second more before I chew and eat it, spitting out the seed. Should I keep the seeds? I shrug and let it fall to the floor, perhaps the birds like them?

I get the bucket and begin plucking the cherries. One at a time, two at a time, and my fingers get stickier and stickier. Every once in a while I pop one or two in my mouth and gorge on the fruits of my labor, and of course the wondrous fruits of labor that were produced by this tree. It's sturdy trunk that will one day grow much further than their little house. It will bring trees for many more generations to come, for years and years. I pause for a moment to look up it's leaves. They branch out in all directions and though they seem to overlap, more often than not they do not. They gather as much sun as they can. The cherry tree gets it's energy from the sun and I get my energy from the cherry. It fulfilled me with a warm sense of satisfaction knowing that I am part of this cycle. Just as I take energy, perhaps one day it will take energy from me.

As I walk closer to the tree I long to feel closer to it still. I am just wearing some Crocs that I use in the garden, plastic shoes that are easy to clean. I slip them off and walk in the grass and approach the tree, still I look up. I outstretch my hand and hold it to the trunk of the tree and look up. A gentle wave of wind passed by and rustles the trees ever so slightly. It feels as if it is speaking to me. It says nothing but says everything simply by being. The connection of myself to the tree, I grounded as it is for a moment, feels as though we truly are one. One organism, ever breathing, just in many, many different forms. I close my eyes for a moment and give a sigh, realizing that I am barely halfway through my task of the cherries. No, this was also part of my task, it must have been. I am one with the tree, we are part of it all, it helps me as I help it. I wonder if it can feel gratitude? I am grateful for it.

I decide to get the ladder from the basement to make sure I can reach the cherries that are higher up. I climb up two steps and begin, dropping the cherries down into the bucket with a "plop". I make a game out of it and see if I can hit the prior cherry with the one I just plucked. I miss quite a few. I suppose I will stick to my day job. Now at a few steps higher height, I can reach many more cherries. I pluck them eagerly, one by one. I notice that there are ants crawling along the branches, and on a node of some cherries there are aphids. I stop to take a closer look. The ants approach the aphids gingerly, carefully. They seem to be approaching the aphid's butts? Suddenly, my memory recants to me something that I had stored far, far away. The aphid is like a cow, to the ant, in that it produces some sweet nectar from it's butt that it takes out from the tree. The ant then takes care of predators for the aphids. Another multitude of lives intertwined with this one giver of fruit. I smiled and decided to leave that node alone, lest I disturb the farmers.

I move the ladder to another side and take four steps up. I am near the top and the cherries are running thin. I hope there are still enough for the cherry liquor! I don't even know how many Arthur needs. I go down again to the basement to get another bucket. This one is a bit larger, but should do the trick. Again I let them fall into the bucket, I don't feel like going up and down all the time. I have to move the ladder two more times to get all of them, I never realized the cherry tree was so tall! It feels so small sometimes, since our house is a bit larger than it. I suppose one day the house will feel small, once the cherry tree is taller. Sometimes a lot of things that seem small, aren't that small. More often than not, I've seen things that seemed bigger but weren't as well. It's all about perspective. I managed to get the last cherries and it seems like the sun moved a lot. How long has it been? I don't even know. I decide to take a short break in the lawn chair and lay back for a moment. The sun is so warm... the breeze... it's so... calming...

* * *

"Alright Betty, let's go." Arthur shouts out to Betty as he whistles walking down the road to their house. From afar he can see the beloved cherry tree, the giver of cherries, harness of red, taker of sun! He laughed at the last one to himself silently, for Jan finally fell asleep on the walk. It had been 3 hours and he was quite tired, and when Jan sleeps he tries to get some shuteye too if possible. Rolling up to the garden he noticed the cherry tree is quite bare.

"Ah fudge..." He mutters to himself, Agnes will probably be upset that the cherries all fell down and are rotting. He prepared himself for a warning to pick them up before they all go bad. It would be just like the last two years, when he promised he would pick them but never did. HE took a breath and rounded the corner into the garden and noticed not two, but three, full buckets of cherries. Betty hurried off to Agnes and gave her lick to the hand before heading off to drink some water from the pond. Arthur didn't feel like shouting now, as he noticed Betty was fast asleep on the lawn chair and snoring. Her overalls full of red, and her hands red too. Arthur smiled as he decided to bring in Arthur, and clean up and prepare the cherries for her once she awoke.