Under the Pear Tree

I was looking out my window now. I should be writing I thought to myself; but instead I was looking at the pear tree that grew in my backyard. Surrounded by bushes and saplings it was the only tree with any hints at life. It was in full bloom today; even though the rest of the world was still barren and recovering from the harsh winter, this Pear tree was alive and strong and ready to birth its new fruits.

I had many fond memories underneath this tree. I said to myself as I donned my coat and scarf; it was still bitterly cold despite what this pear tree thought. The familiar crunch of frost beneath my shoes brought me back to a simpler time, a time before my life was filled with the woes of adulthood. If I closed my eyes I could see the swing that once hung from the branches, of having picnics with my parents. Oh, childhood what a simpler time indeed.

I laid out the blanket in my arms beneath the tree, a place once used often as a place for play and rest. I sat with great effort, for I was not six years old with the bones and joints of a trampoline; I was older now, and my bones and joints were those of a rusty spring. I rested my head against the trusty bark of my childhood friend and sighed.

So much had changed since I had sat here like this. The last time, I was accompanied by my mother. Her brown eyes lit with sunshine and looked like warm honey, pear juice stained her lips and we were discussing which college was the right fit for me. My father was out of earshot as the discussion morphed to which classmates did I find attractive.

'None, I am not interested in anyone.'

That answer had hung between us. A silent confession of the true meaning behind them, something I was not quite ready to say out loud.

I touched the empty space next to me, cold and damp from the frost beneath. She was gone now. I was alone. Fresh tears that I had thought were impossible blossomed like the petals above me; I missed her and our talks...her unsaid support of who I was. I never did get the chance to tell her. She never did get to meet my happily ever after.

Beneath this pear tree...is where I knew what I had been hiding had to come out. I had to scream it from the branches and wear it proudly on my person. It wasn't awful to be asexual. To identify as one of the subcategories. I was Demisexual, which meant I needed an intense emotional bond with someone before I could be intimate with them. I had nothing to be ashamed of and it left me with less chance of getting broken and bruised with unkind souls who only cared about one thing.

I took out the journal I had brought along. Perhaps I could write out here, and transcribe the results later. I wrote and wrote, my fingers numb from the cold, I wrote until everything but the rough bark against my back faded into nothingness. I wrote until I smelt chocolate and saw steam. I look up and see my happily ever after.

Her understanding eyes shining brightly, so blue it took my breath away. She held out a mug of hot chocolate, the steam coiling and wafting into the early spring air.

I took the mug after setting aside the journal now half full of my chicken scratch that I would have trouble deciphering later. I indicated for her to join me and she did, her head resting on my shoulder as I drank the warm liquid. Feeling returned to my forgotten limbs and I set aside the mug and swung my arm around her, bringing her closer to my side.

If only I could have met her before my mother left this world. But at least under this pear tree, it was almost as if they were meeting. Two memories side by side separated by the passage of time.

Spring gave way to Summer; the blossoms turned into delicious fruit that I turned into tarts and pies as was tradition. I married my happily ever after under the pear tree that summer. A way for me to have my mother there; even with my father there, walking down the aisle with my infant nephew it was not as it should be. Mother should be here, but she wasn't.

Under the Pear Tree, I said I do. I was living my happily ever after under this pear tree.

Years instead of months go by. The only constant was the pear tree. I was alone again. My happily ever after closed her book before I did. I was old now, far older than I was. My bones and joints no longer rusty springs but fused together metal, unyielding. Even so, I donned my coat, put on my scarf and remembered my gloves.

The familiar crunch of frost beneath my shoes brought a tired smile to my wrinkled face. I sat with even greater difficulty under the pear tree. My oldest friend. I rested my head against the bark and inhaled deeply, once again the pear tree was ahead of the world, the white blossoms already in bloom.

'Beautiful.' I whispered to the tree,

I closed my eyes, and opened them once, twice, and then they opened no more as my last breath escaped my lungs and I joined my loves in eternal peace, under the pear tree.