Tim’s eyes glittered as he looked at the stars as he rested against a silver pine tree. Which hugged his heart giddily with its cherry and cinnamon perfume. Reminding him tomorrow is Sunday. Cherry pie day. A day he always cherished since his mother passed and became the very tree, he rested his back on this night.
His father, Mr. LaFleur, came out of the house holding a blue lantern. He walked along the dewy grass, shivering from leaving the comfort of his bed. But he knew that Tim’s nightly visit with his mother wouldn’t end until father time made it easier for him to live with his scars.
He’s only a boy.
Tim looked up at his father. His stoic smile made Tim’s dim to one that pursed like lips tasting a lemon for the first time. He wasn’t afraid of his father. And he loved him dearly. But they liked different things. Tim liked to draw and read to his little sister, Sandy. His father liked to cook, take them on little trips to forest and flatlands they’ve never seen or saw many times.
But they both loved the silver pine tree that embodies the same woman they always loved. In different ways of course. A husband’s love for his wife is far deeper and complicated than a little boy’s love for his mother. Whether she be with them on this night as a person or as a tree.
His father sat down next to him. Tim was delightedly surprised. He never sat against the tree. At least as far as Tim knew. He smiled happily in his dad’s company. Calling him father in his head, and out loud, felt strange and cold. But this little change made Tim’s heart relax a little more and his lungs fill and release air calmly. Usually, being this close to his dad makes his heart squeeze and lungs go berserk.
“I miss her too,” said Mr. LaFleur.
Tim rested his head on his dad’s chest, falling asleep quicker than olive oil pooling in circles in hot pasta water. Mr. LaFleur hooked the lantern on his waist and picked up his son then stood up. Before the thought of going inside came to him, he looked at the tree and said:
“Santifina, you have always been the rare flower that only I could find and cherish more than anyone else.”
He looked at Tim with sad eyes that quivered his lips into a smile as he looked back up at what was once his wife.
“Our boy has shown the tightness of my grip on you. I love you more than anything,” he said, taking a breath and focusing on his son. “But it’s time for me to embrace that love with our children. You told me to love our children passionately. That a child’s smile is the greatest gift a parent can wish for. I haven’t given them enough smiles since you left. But you’re right. You’re always right. You will never leave my heart. And you’ll never leave theirs. I love you Santifina.”
With that he turned around and started walking to the deck. In which Sandy stood there in her pink bathrobe, rubbing her eyes. “Daddy, can we have mommy’s special pie now? I’m hungry!” Mr. LaFleur put his son on his shoulder then stroked Sandy’s hair and said: “No pie sweetie. Tomorrow’s a big day. Let’s all go to bed.” He closed the door behind him and his children.
The silver pine tree’s limbs raised up then sagged down. Dusting the ground with bright blue powder. Shimmering against the moon’s light. Tim was the only one to have seen the tree do this. The only one to see his mom cry. Whether it be through sadness or happiness.
He looked at her through his window, seeing her cry one more time. He shed a tear, blew her a kiss then closed the blinds. Whispering something his mother used to say: “Tears don’t make boys sissies. It makes them strong and brave in the tough parts of life. Don’t be a sissy and put your feelings in a tightly sealed strawberry jam jar. Let them flow free in the air. Sleep and dream sweetly my funny cupcake.”
He fell asleep, dreaming of cupcakes and dancing with his mom, dad, and Sandy.
