h2>Dating : My FAVORITE Tree
Our garden was Communist-style. That meant that in front of the house there was a little square patch of Earth packed with as many fructiferous trees as it could hold.
This was because all of my grandparents’ lands were taken off of them by the Communist regime. So with the little space they had, they attempted to cultivate a bountiful garden.
In time they got their lands back, and that square patch of earth still held some of the GREATEST trees you would have ever seen.
We had a giant cherry tree, as big as the house. It was, in fact, slightly taller than our house. It grew the types of cherries that are small and stain like hell. I loved those cherries.
Nobody had bothered to trim all the low branches so even at age 7, I could get up there and climb all the way to the top.
And that’s how I spent my summers. On the opposite side of our yard, we had a giant walnut tree. It didn’t grow quite as large mainly because of the type of tree it was. But it was still large enough that if it ever fell it would knock down a wall or something.
I knew every handhold of those trees intimately. The rough bark left dirty marks on my skin as my little arms rubbed on the branches. I wasn’t exactly swinging from one branch to the other like Tarzan, but I felt comfortable up there.
I could find little spots where I could chill and enjoy the view. The whole world was laid out in front of me from there, and I was removed from my immediate surroundings and responsibilities (not that I had too many of those as a kid).
I felt safe, protected, and as if it was my refuge from anything that bothered me.
I spent inordinate amounts of hours up in those trees during my life. It was magical.
Eventually, our cherry tree grew so large that it reached into our neighbor’s yard. They had a cherry tree too. It was much darker than ours, for whatever reason. And grew different types of cherries.
Our families were friendly enough that I could go in there if I wanted without asking for permission, but for me, it was uncharted territory.
Since the trees nearly touched I spent summers trying to build a bridge across them, which was a stupid idea. I fell from a low height many times, but the bridge I build also looked hideous and neither my family nor the neighbors wanted it built.
So all I am left with now is the treasure of those memories, some of my favorites. If trees had souls, I’m sure both of them would have gone to heaven. This was a long time ago.