The Apple Tree



The door hardly made a sound as I closed it behind me. I trudged to the patio and sat down on one of the low-backed chairs with a sigh. In all of my sixteen years I had repeatedly been prevented from participating in the activities most people of my age normally got involved in. I could not go out to my friends more than once a month, could not go to parties, and wasn’t even allowed to talk to boys. Also, my mother had just forbidden me from going to a concert, for which I already had tickets and was merely two streets away. I know this is not a reason for major depression, but it is very frustrating when you finally think you are getting something you really wanted, but end up realizing that you never had a chance in the first place.
As I lifted my head, I gazed at the ancient apple tree in my garden. I felt a tiny smile from my lips as I stared at it. I rose and walked towards the tree. Suddenly my step seemed lighter. As I watched the towering tree, memories, which had been locked away in my mind and forgotten, suddenly broke free. Perhaps I just wanted to remember happier times.

I saw myself as a tree-year old girl with tiny pigtails playing around the tree. I had pretended that the tree was a large living doll which I could talk to in my baby language.

I saw myself transform into a seven-year old girl who still played with dolls and believed in Santa Claus. My fantasy at that time was to have the tree talk back to me and answer all my queries. My tiny smile became wider as more and more memories flooded into my mind. Even though I was seeing all of this in my mind’s eye, it really seemed as if I was looking at younger images of myself, right in front of me.

My small frame grew as I turned ten years old. My god, how plump and chubby I used to be! No wonder I was everyone’s favorite! I remembered how, at the age of ten, I had my first crush on a boy who had somehow sneaked into my garden.

My smile had grown decidedly wider over the last memory. How immature I had been! Well, that was six years ago.

Another image crept stealthily into my mind. It was a taller and a much thinner version of me. My scowling face and angry body language contrasted darkly with my previously smiling images. I was thirteen-years old and as it seemed, angry over everything. I remembered how I used to take all my anger and frustration out on the tree. How petty my troubles were at that time, but what a big deal I used to make out o them. Just like I was doing now…

I collapsed in the reassuring shade of the tree, suddenly feeling exhausted. Th sight of the apple tree had brought back the memories that were buried in my mind. These four, five memories had actually made me forget my troubles, even if only for a short time. Come to think of it, my troubles were actually quite small and meaningless. Also there was nothing wrong with coming from a conservative family…

My head felt heavier and I rested it on the grass. Just before my eyes closed, I saw myself as a five year old resting peacefully under the apple tree….


10 thoughts on “The Apple Tree

  1. Problems are temporary.
    Find joy in the ordinary.
    Don’t judge your life at an instant.
    For life is a great mystery.

  2. Lovely stroll down memory lane. I like how it began during a time of angst, but as memories flashed by, the girl was less troubled.

    Parenting decisions are often governed by past experiences or fears over mistakes that could happen. At some point, though, we have to step back a bit and let children dip their toes into the process of making choices and accepting consequences ๐Ÿ™‚

  3. All my life if I needed ‘time out’ I’d findโ€”somewhereโ€”a pine.

    Sit with your back against a pine, close your eyes, breathe in the scent, feel the bark, feel the strength of the tree if the wind is blowing, hear the breeze in the needles …

    … be careful, it’s addictive.

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