The Orchard

On the fertile grounds of myheart, seeds were sown for an orchard of love and friendship. God made theconditions favorable, soon enough they grew. The sweet smell of euphorialingered in the air as they blossomed like musical canon. The fruits from theharvest nourished my frail body that was made famish by fear.

While all the trees, theirproduce I have tasted, a peculiar shrub was still maturing. Shyly situated in acorner I seldom pass by, I carefully dug out its roots and replanted it in themiddle of the garden. Prudently I watered it everyday, pulled out the weedsaround it, shaded it when the sun was blazing, and remove the caterpillars fromits leaves.

One day, its first bud blossomedand gave off a distinct strong aroma that was exotic and undeniable alluring. Ipaid close attention and gave special care as its flowers develop. I becamerather impatient for it took a longer time for its fruits to mature.

At long last, the day came when Iknew that they were ripe for the picking because of the fragrance so invitingthat it muted out all the others in the garden. It was pure seduction. Elationbecame passionate fervor. I plucked the largest and the ripest, not minding thepricks of the spines as I opened it for its flesh with my bare hands.

I devoured a mouthful like ahungry beast. But just how good it smelled, it was also how awful it tasted forit was bitter. I spitted it out – I gagged. I mourned over my disappointment.It wasn’t worth the pain from the spines.

I was infuriated for oddly I feltbetrayed. I took an axe and struck its trunk. But every time my axe cutsthrough, my heart was also wounded. The tree bled – it bled my tears. I felt soweak from lamenting that I dropped my axe and fell asleep on its roots.

In my dream the tree manifestedhis form. He beamed a smile like a full moon on a clear night sky, my heartmelted. He took me by the hand and embraced me. Despite my vindictiveness, hethanked me for treating him somebody special. Guilt struck me and I feltashamed. I did not know if there was redemption from what I did. I felt that“sorry” wasn’t enough to make up for the pain I had caused him. But still, inan act of desperation, I said I was sorry.

I woke up the next day, the sunshone through. It made me think why I felt betrayed. I was a victim of my owndoing. I expected the tree to bring me sweet and succulent fruit like all theothers in the garden, so much more because I gave it special nurture. Greatexpectations can bring disappointments; I should have hoped, for Hope invitesmiracles.

Days went by. I fought the urgeto water it; it can manage on its own anyway. It was also big enough for theweeds to overcome. The caterpillars became butterflies. I kept my distance,feeling downhearted that I could never partake of the fruits of my specialtree. The aroma of its fruits and the fragrance of its flowers was sweettemptation. One in a while he still flashes his smile at me in my dreams, buteven in my dreams I kept my reservations. I could not look him in the eye.

One morning I curiously noticed thatsquirrels came for its fruits that fell on the ground. For the longest time, I wentnear my special tree anticipating that a falling thorny fruit might hit me onthe head. I noticed the scars on the trunk.

I sat under its shade to observethe fallen fruits. One dropped directly onmy lap. Queerly the spines were not spines anymore but rather they were softand downy. I stood and reached for a fruit, there were no quills anymore. Iopened it, took a small bite. I closed my eyes, enduring the bitterness likecorporal mortification for the pain I caused my tree. But as the flesh stayedlonger on my tongue, it became tangy like peppermint. At times I can tastesomething bitter, then something spicy, then something very sweet. Its flavorwas playful.

I opened my eyes and smiled.

I was filled and satisfied.