In The Shade Of a Tree: A True Story

August 1, 2015

By Glee

Tree showing its roots in Ashland, Oregon   by Glee

 One hot day in August, a friend had dropped some old toys off on our front porch for the kids.  After discovering the boxes, my kids had turned the Jungle into "Endangered Species Political Coup", leaving the muscle bound, equipment heavy action figures trapped in their own cages.  The wild animals had taken the plastic Land Cruiser and all the tiny plastic film equipment to the back yard.  There, they filmed their communal creativity in celebration of the action figures' release.  The story on the front of the box turned out to be tragically wrong. 

My littlest had grown tired of his older sibling’s intense "activism".  He had abandoned the tiny crew and their puppet master in favor of solitary play in the front yard.  The front door was gaping wide in welcome to the warm breeze of a summer afternoon. 

I had found a lull in the day, when endings had come together and beginnings had yet to start.  I didn’t know who I had been before I gave myself to motherhood.  I was left wondering, "Where was the ache for independence I knew before children?"  I picked up one thing and put it in its place, and another, and put it where it belonged.  It was fruitless. 

I rounded the corner from the kitchen as my youngest walked through the door with purpose.  He prepared his statement with careful gestures, tilted head, and sincere brown eyes.  “There’s a lady sitting out front asking for a glass of water.”  I mixed my concern together with certainty and calm, saying, “Oh, well, I’ll take care of it.”  I took a couple of steps through the front door and onto the porch to see an elderly woman sitting on a flat rock in the shade of our maple tree.  She’d been expecting me, and looked up. There were two big bags of cans lumped on the sidewalk next to her feet. 

I knew this woman.  I didn’t bother to take another step and said, “Oh. I’ll get it.” 

I passed easily through the open door and into the kitchen.  I saw a big plastic cup in my hand, and then in hers.  These are the cups we use when we are worried about our good glasses breaking.   I saw an honor and love for her change the plastic into a big glass cup filled to the rim with cool water.  As I looked down, my hands had already filled the glass.  It was a glass of water I would want for myself if I were very thirsty. 

I walked with ease, saying aloud to myself, “Did I need this lesson today?”  I was secretly relieved to have something to do.  The weight of the glass felt good, like a precious gift of every day value. 

I stood and talked to Sing about her life, how she’s from Fiji that she got here and worked, then retired, and now gets social security, barely enough. 

“But I don’t steal, you see?  I ask.”   She said as she drank the water.  We spent some time talking as she rested in the shade, commenting here and there about how she was tired and hot and it is a good place to sit. 

Pears my neighbor shares from her tree.  by Glee

We talked about men, how her long-time boyfriend had become enamored with a Chinese woman, who was taking away all of his attention.  She was frustrated and angry. 

She suddenly remembered why she’d been there in the first place, and quietly informed me that my neighbor’s husband must drink a lot, 'cause she puts out so many beer cans to recycle every week.  She comes by to get the cans, but doesn’t always get the timing right.  The cans weren’t out, yet. 

I took a moment to cover my sadness for my neighbor, a woman who lives alone and smells of alcohol in the afternoons, how she’s the best neighbor I’ve ever had. 

I became curious about a brown grocery bag of fresh picked greens at her side.  Following my eyes, she said, “You know these?  You cook them it hot oil.”  She gestured to show the motion used to cook them.  I felt my conscience well up and I checked my boundaries.  “I don’t know this woman”, I thought to myself.  “I can only offer her what I think I can spare.  then We could be friends.  She could live in my house.  We could learn from one another.  She could be a nice grandmother to my kids.”  Familiar with these thoughts, I chase them away and quickly tell her, “You can have some figs when they ripen again.” 

“I don’t like that kind, you know,” said Sing, grimacing.   

Softened stones, Rock Beach, Oregon Coast  by Glee

I said, ”Oh, you like greens, roots, squash.” 

“Yes.  Yes. That’s good for me”, she nodded.

I got up to get her some beets from our garden, big green leaves attached by deep burgundy stems.  She was surprised we had veggies growing in the front yard. We talked about how people cook them. She thanked me, passed back the empty glass, and we said good-bye.  She was still sitting at the sidewalk when I walked into the house. 

I carried Sing with me in my mind.  I never knew the rocks below were good for sitting on.  The deep shade had grown over the years and the rocks had softened.  I recall thinking, “She didn’t want the sweet figs.  I guess I planted those for me.”

Learn more:  Is water a fundamental human right?  
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