There was an apple tree standing near my house.
Old, crooked, with a hollow like a tired heart.
It hadn’t borne fruit for twenty years.
And everyone said it needed to be cut down, because what use is a tree that gives only shade?
But I couldn’t. Because it wasn’t just an apple tree — it was the tree my late Maria had planted.
She had said then: “Let’s plant it so the children have something to eat, and we have something to remember.”
And though the children had long since moved away, and she and I shared only that same shade — I kept it.
And then one spring, after a strong storm that broke everything in the garden, I went outside in the morning —
and on that apple tree… there was a single blossom.
Small, white, like a memory that didn’t want to fade.
WOW:
- >>> Village Legends from Grandpa: “The Shadow by the Barn”.
- >>> The Best Toasts for Holidays Short, Wise, and with Humor Toasts — short, wise, and funny.
- >>> Grandpa Maxim and the Connection Break. Rural humor.
- >>> What is life – just a circus with clowns?
- >>> How the Old Man Met the Ghost Cow with Red Eyes — a Creepy Story with Wisdom and Humor
I sat beneath it the whole day.
Didn’t eat, didn’t drink, just watched.
Because it seemed to me — it was her, my Maria, looking one last time to say:
“Don’t cut it down. Not everything has to be useful to be needed.”
And from that day on, I never cut down old trees.
Because they are like people — silently holding up the sky,
even when they no longer bear fruit.
