Cherry picking
JUNE 23, 2014
Two fruit trees stand on the northwest corner of my parents’ yard: one apple, one cherry. With predictability, the apple produces small, tart fruit and the cherry produces none at all. Until this year, that is. The barren tree chose this summer of all summers to blossom and produce branches of dark red sweetness. Last night, my brother invited me over to pick cherries. I, in turn, invited my sister and her kids to join in the cherry pick.
We started at ground level, reaching for those closest to earth. We moved to short ladders and then graduated to taller ladders. There were some large patches close to the trunk, so I abandoned the ladder and started climbing. My tree instincts took over as I surveyed the limbs and looked for where to plant my foot.
I’ve always trusted trees. As a little girl, I lived half my days in the trees surrounding my home.
My nieces and nephews followed me up on the low branches, and I was delighted by their chatter and their eagerness to find just the right cherry. I plunged into the branches but could never catch up to the ongoing trail of red. I looked down and imagined the scene that would have been. My mom would be sitting by my youngest nephew on the blanket that sat a few feet from the tree. She’d coax a laugh from him and then she’d kiss his plump cheeks. The older kids would run around her, and she’d hold them in her smile. She’d notice my ladder acrobatics, with one foot on a wrung and one foot on the neighbor’s chain link fence, holding steady with a large branch. She’d laugh at how ridiculous I looked and say, “Be careful.” I’d brush off her concern and say, “I’m fine.” She’d cheer on my niece as she gripped her blue plastic bowl ready to catch the cherries I would drop.
It was the kind of day she would have loved.
When I finally descended the tree, I left plenty of fruit for another day, another picker. I walked to the blanket where my nephew sat, and I tickled him until he laughed and rolled over. I scooped him up, tossed him in the air and then drew him close and kissed his cheeks. One cheek for me and one for my mom.