Family Trees

At age eight, the future seems to extend to about next week. Anything beyond that is inconceivable. When I helped my dad plant a dozen saplings back when I was eight, my dad told me what those trees would grow to become. He said, "When you're all grown up, those trees will be even taller than you are, and they'll make a nice, shady arch above the pathway."
I remeber looking at the scrawny little trunks and sparse leaves and thinking, "Well, that'll never happen, but I'd better not tell my dad. It would hurt his feelings."
Now that pathway is, indeed, shaded by twelve magnificent trees that shelter my kids from sun and snow and rain as they walk to Coco and Bill's house. In the fall, the trees grow deep red berries and their leaves turn bright orange. My dad has adorned them with twinkle lights to guide us along the path to his house. That tranquil path is one of my favorite spots. It's bittersweet to see the evidence of time's passing in the size of the trees.
Tonight, we planted an apple tree. As Josh and all the kids dug the hole, I said to Scott, "Come help with this apple tree. It the tree that's going to shade the dessert table at Golda's wedding."
Golda probably thought, "Well, that's never going to happen, but I'd better not say anything. It might hurt my mom's feelings." But now I know that time goes too fast, and that little baby tree we planted tonight will grow to witness the events that make our lives. Little feet will climb its branches, little hands will pick its apples. Then one day, big hands will grace its branches with twinkle lights and set up tables under its boughs and there will be a wedding.
Tonight, I sat out on our newly remodeled porch, admiring Scott's handiwork. The kids were wrapped in blankets and Scott's new lanterns glowed. I said, "Listen to the wind whistle through the branches of our new apple tree. Do you hear that? Isn't it beautiful?"
Ruby crushed my reverie with her reply. "Mom, that sound is the neighbor's air conditioner." Believe it: That wedding, and more to follow, will be here far too soon.