How to Grow Forgiveness

“What is he doing out there?” Logan hid most of his body behind the dark blue curtain hanging in his best friend’s bedroom window. He watched the old man across the street as he struggled to carry a large, white bucket down the sidewalk. The man remained hunched over as he walked, staring at the ground. Every few seconds he would stop and his free hand, bony and wrinkled, would dart out and pluck up several small items from among the fallen leaves. He would drop them into the bucket and then shuffle a few feet forward and repeat the whole process again.

“Ryan?” Logan tried again, when his friend didn’t answer him.

“Huh?” Ryan responded, distracted by the game he was playing. He was biting his bottom lip in concentration and his entire body was leaning to the right as he maneuvered the race car on the screen around a particularly tight turn.

“Your neighbor. The old one. He’s out there picking up stuff on the ground. What’s he looking for?”

Ryan’s car finally made it back onto a straight stretch of road and he hit the pause button on his controller. He got up and came over to stand beside Logan. He pushed the curtain all the way open and peered out.

“Dude! Don’t do that! He might see us watching him!” Logan tried unsuccessfully to yank the curtain back into place, but it snagged on the uneven part of the rod.

“Eh, who cares.” Ryan shrugged. “That’s just Mr. Albero. He’s crazy. Doesn’t talk to anyone. Hardly ever even comes out of his house. Every fall he’s out there doing that.”

Ryan left the window and plopped back down onto the carpet, controller already back in his hand. The video game’s car engine revved loudly as he restarted the game.

“Doing what though?” Logan persisted.

“Picking up acorns. There won’t be a single one left by the time he gets done.”

“But why? What does he do with them?”

“Who knows? Maybe he thinks he’s a squirrel. He’s crazy, like I said.” Ryan tossed a controller in the direction of Logan’s feet. “Come on, let's race.”

***

It had been a couple of days since Logan had been over at Ryan’s house, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the old man and his strange behavior. The way the man shambled along indicated that he was in a great deal of pain, crippled even, and yet for hours the man had gone back and forth diligently collecting acorns. He’d even returned to his house a couple of times to empty the bucket.

What could he possibly be doing with all those acorns? Logan’s curiosity was killing him and he just couldn’t understand how Ryan could just shrug it off and be so uninterested in something so weird. According to his friend, the man had been doing this for years.

Maybe it was just because the mystery was so new to him that he was so interested in it. Ryan had lived in the neighborhood his entire life, but Logan had just moved there this past spring. He’d met Ryan at high school, they were both in their sophomore year, and they had several classes together. They had then discovered that they both just happened to live on the same street.

What sealed their friendship though was when they both found themselves in the same extracurricular club. The club focused on video game technology and computer science. Both boys loved playing video games and Ryan aspired to be a game designer one day. Logan on the other hand enjoyed creating websites and graphic designs. They often imagined themselves one day starting their own company together and putting out the next hit game.

“Honey? What do you think? Does this look OK?” Logan’s thoughts were interrupted as his mother came into his room modeling a fairly simple outfit consisting of blue jeans and a nice floral print blouse. She carried a brown leather coat and he noticed she was wearing makeup and her good jewelry.

“Yeah, you look nice mom. Where are you guys going again?”

“Just out to dinner and then a movie. I’ll be back before midnight.” His mother added that last bit, appearing a bit uncomfortable. The doorbell rang and she jumped. Logan could see how nervous she was. It had been years since his father had passed away and this was the first real date she had been on.

“Have a good time mom.” Logan got up and gave her a reassuring hug. He knew she worried about how he would feel about her dating again. “John seems like a really nice guy.”

His mother smiled appreciatively at him and then turned to rush out of the room. Logan watched from his bedroom window as John walked his mother to his car and then held the door open for her. A small part of him hurt, he missed his father, he always would, but the smile on his mother’s face made him happy.

Also, with his mother out of the house, this was the perfect opportunity to go investigate. It was evening, but there was still at least an hour before it got really dark out. Logan grabbed a flashlight, just in case, and his phone and then headed out down the street towards Mr. Albero’s house.

***

Logan arrived in front of the old man’s house a few minutes later. Standing right in front of it, instead of looking out of his friend’s window, he noticed just how dilapidated it was. The lawn was overgrown, the paint was peeling, a few of the roof tiles were askew, and the gutters were so clogged that they were sprouting their own small forest along the roof line.

All the curtains were pulled shut, even on the second floor. A large white van with a faded and partially scraped off advertisement for a handyman service was parked in the driveway. A thick layer of dirt was curiously piled outside the van’s back doors.

Not wanting to be seen, Logan quickly skirted down the alleyway between Mr. Albero’s and his neighbor's house. Both had a fence, so a narrow strip of grass ran between them. The neighbor had one of those clean looking white vinyl fences that was short and more decorative than anything else. Mr. Albero’s however was a towering privacy fence. The wood panels laid flush against each other, except where they had warped, and it stood at least 6 feet high.

Logan tried to peer between the warped spots but found that tarps had been stapled to any areas wide enough to peer through. He’d have to get up and look over the fence to see what was going on back there. Glancing around he noticed that the neighbor stored his trash bin in the alleyway. As quietly as he could, Logan rolled the bin over to Mr. Albero’s fence and carefully climbed on top of it. It was only partially filled and wiggled a bit precariously under his weight.

Standing on top of it, Logan now well exceeded the height he needed to see into the backyard. In fact, the middle of his shins hit the top of the fence. The entire area was thrown into shadow from the direction of the setting sun, so Logan clicked on his flashlight and looked around. The yard was enormous, easily the largest yard in the entire neighborhood and it was covered in saplings and seedlings of various native tree species.

They were arranged in neat lines stretching from the back of the house all the way to the back of the fence. Most of the pots were the same black plastic ones you would find plants for sale in at a gardening store, but there were also trees growing in discarded cat litter buckets, detergent jugs with their tops cut off, and a variety of other recycled containers.

An elaborate watering system snaked back and forth along the lines of trees, in-between the narrow paths. Towards the house several old potting tables stood side by side with buckets of acorns and other nuts piled on top. There were a couple of rusty looking wheelbarrows and some small outdoor sheds that had seen much better days.

With a loud hiss, the watering system cut on, startling Logan. He dropped his flashlight over the fence and into the yard. The trash can under him wobbled uncertainly with his sudden movement. Then it tipped backwards. Logan, however, pitched forwards. One of his legs cleared the fence, while the shoe on his other leg monetarily caught and then broke through the rotten wood.

He landed heavily, and awkwardly, on the leg that had not gotten caught up. He heard a loud crack and then his vision went white with pain. Logan lay on the grass, trying to catch his breath, the fall and the pain in his broken leg had knocked the wind out of him. Waves of nausea rolled over him.

Logan looked up at the darkening sky. Somewhere near his head the flashlight illuminated a small patch of dirt. The little tree branches of the saplings seemed to tower over his prone form. Heavy rain drops pelted his face and body. He was momentarily confused by this and then remembered the sprinkler system. His clothing was quickly soaking through. The autumn night air was chilly. He wasn't going to be able to walk on his own. He needed to call for help.

Logan shifted his weight to try to reach his cell phone in his back pocket. Hot, stabbing pain shot up his injured leg and he felt the bile rise in his throat as he attempted to not vomit. After several false starts, he finally managed to retrieve the phone. His heart sank as the flashlight beam caught on the cracked and damaged screen. The damn thing wouldn’t even turn on.

In a voice hoarse with pain, Logan called out for help. A light flicked on in the back of the house and then the back porch light came on. A blinding beam of light from a large flashlight scanned the yard and settled on him. A second later the watering system sputtered off and Mr. Albero shuffled down the row of trees closest to him. He was already on the phone with 911.

***

The next hour or so was a blur of pain and questions. The EMTs wanted to know his entire medical history as they loaded him up onto a stretcher. They attempted to call his mother several times, but she must have still had her phone turned to silent from being in the theater. Mr. Albero claimed to be his grandfather and insisted that he ride along with them. Logan didn’t know what to make of that, but he was in no condition to argue. Every time the ambulance hit the tiniest bump in the road Logan gritted his teeth and fought back a scream.

After his leg had been set and the cast was hardening, Logan found himself alone in the hospital room with Mr. Albero. The nurse had dimmed the lights and promised to continue to try to get in touch with his mother as she left. Mr. Albero had promised he would wait with him until she arrived. He had even held his hand while they were working on his leg. The second dose of painkillers began to kick in and Logan found himself speaking without really thinking.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Mr. Albero set down the magazine he had been thumbing through and looked up at Logan with an arched brow and a mischievous smile on his face. “You aren’t the first kid to sneak into my backyard...although you are the first to enter in such a spectacular way.”

Logan snorted. “Yeah, I guess that was pretty dumb...you weren’t worried I was a thief though?”

“Are you?

“No.”

“Good. Cause you’d be pretty bad at it.” Mr. Albero chuckled. “Besides, what are you going to steal? Some trees?”

“Why do you have all those trees in your backyard?”

Mr. Albero looked past Logan. His eyes had a distant look to them. His lips curled up into a slight smile. “When I was your age, I loved to go camping. Once I got my first car, I started to go every weekend. I loved being in the woods. Hiking, fishing, cooking over an open fire.” He sighed and sadness began to fill his face.

“One weekend when I was in my twenties I got careless. I didn’t make sure my fire was completely out before I left my campsite. Many, many acres burned. Thousands of trees. I don’t know how many exactly. I’ve tried to calculate it over the years. To estimate the damage I did to the place I loved the most...” He paused and took a shaky breath.

“I vowed to replant every single one I destroyed.” Tears began to trickle down the old man’s cheeks. They got caught in his wrinkles and made tiny, slow moving rivers to his chin. “I got diagnosed with cancer last year. It’s inoperable. I’m scared. I’m running out of time.”

Mr. Albero stopped staring off into the distance and roughly wiped the tears from his face. He focused his gaze squarely on Logan. “It’s not death that I’m afraid of, you know. I’ve lived a long, good life. It’s not death. It’s that I haven’t planted enough trees yet. How can I expect the earth to welcome me back into it, when I hurt it so much?”

Logan felt his own eyes prickling with tears. He opened his mouth to reassure the old man that he would help him. That as soon as his leg was healed he would go collect acorns with him, or carry the little saplings to his van, or even dig the holes to put them in...but just then his mother rushed in, John trailing behind her, looking just as worried as she was.

By the time Logan had finished assuring both of them that he was going to be OK and explaining what had happened, he looked over to see the chair Mr. Albero had been sitting in was now empty. On the counter beside it rested the magazine the old man had been reading. Logan had assumed it was something that he had picked up in the waiting room, but now that it was closed he saw it had a little address tag on it. It was a publication about forestry.

***

Logan was bored out of his mind. Because of the type of break and the placement, his doctor wanted him to stay at home and put as little weight on it as possible. Ryan had been stopping by every few days with his classwork so he wouldn’t fall behind in school. It’d been six weeks and most of that time he’d been confined to his bed. It was only in the past couple of weeks that he had been able to start getting around on his own for short distances using the crutches they gave him at his last check up.

Even with the school work and the visits with his best friend, Logan found himself with an excruciating amount of free time on his hands. He’d read the magazine that Mr. Albero had left behind at the hospital from front to back at least 10 times now, which had given him an idea. Stuck in bed with his laptop, Logan began building a website for Mr. Albero’s tree planting project. The back of the forestry magazine and a few google searches provided him with all of the information he needed.

***

The next week Logan’s doctor gave him the OK to return to school as long as he used his crutches and sat out of any strenuous activities. But more excitingly, his mother agreed to drive him over to Mr. Albero’s house. When he got there he hobbled up the drive, his laptop securely stowed in his backpack. He noticed that Mr. Albero’s van was pulled all the way up to the garage and three other cars that he didn’t recognize were also squeezed into the small driveway.

A woman about his mother’s age answered the door. She introduced himself as Mr. Albero’s daughter and explained to him that over the past few weeks her father’s condition had worsened considerably. Logan’s heart fell as she told him that he could go in and talk to her father, but that it was unlikely he would wake up or respond. He was on a lot of medication now to keep him comfortable.

She led him past the living room where several family members were seated, talking quietly among themselves. The curtains were drawn in Mr. Albero’s room and he looked incredibly small and frail in the large bed. A hospice nurse sat in a chair near a tray full of medications.

Logan set his crutches to the side and carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. The nurse told him to just talk to him like he normally would even if he didn’t respond. Logan got out his laptop and navigated to the website, he turned the glowing screen to face the sleeping man.

“I just want you to know that you don’t have to worry about the trees Mr. Albero. I made this website and I contacted a bunch of places. In just four weeks I already have over a thousand people committed to planting a hundred trees each. They’re already sharing pictures of their seedlings and where they are going to plant them and they are telling more people. It doesn’t matter how many trees got burned down, Mr. Albero, they will keep planting them. You can rest easy now. We’ll all keep planting them.”

A faint smile crossed the old man’s lips and his eyelids briefly fluttered open.

“Thank you.” He whispered.