Some things are constant

There is a pear tree at the back of my mum's property. I used to play under it as a young child. When it was summer, I would stay out there for hours. Little hands digging into the soft dirt, feeling it getting under my nails. I would find worms tangled up in the earth and would bring them to my mum to show her my new friend. I would be out there from early in the day with the sun filtering through the leaves and warming my back. Time blurred away and the sun would dip below the horizon, vibrant oranges and reds streaking the darkening sky. The outside light would come on and my mum would step out onto the wrap-around porch to call me back in for dinner.

***

As I grew older, I transitioned from making mud pies to sitting on the tire swing my father had secured to the branches five years prior to his death. When I first sat in it, I smiled so big it hurt my cheeks. I swung so high I swore I could see for miles. My father stood on the porch, watching me laugh as I swung higher and higher. I fell off it once. I was trying to do what my cousin, James, did when he got enough momentum and then let go of the swing and landed on his feet. I jumped off after I got the swing to go as high I could but, instead of landing gracefully like my cousin, I got a mouthful of dirt. My father saw the whole thing and ran outside to see if I was alright.

My father had taken one of my grazed hands, accessing the damage.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not too bad.”

He kissed my palm. “Be more careful next time, okay?”

I nodded, wiping at my wet cheeks.

He stood and ruffled my blond curls before taking a seat on the porch step.

***

I sat on the swing every day the first year he was gone. It made me feel close to him. When the sun warmed my face as I leaned back on the swing. I imagined it was his hand holding my cheek. Sometimes I would read. Head bent while the wind would push the swing gently. Other times, I would sit there with empty hands and tears dripping down my cheeks.

“Does it hurt?”

I heard those words as clear as the day he spoke them while holding my injured hand. I sobbed so hard my body shook with the effort of them.

“Yes. It hurts so bad.”

***

I remember having my first kiss under the pear tree. I was sixteen and sneaking through the back gate to avoid being seen by my mum because it was past my curfew. Dylan was right behind me, insisting that he wanted to walk me to my door, like a true gentleman. Our breaths came out in clouds as we ran across the frost-covered grass. The trees had surrendered their leaves to winter and now it seemed like they were shivering above us.

I stopped him at the pear tree with a hand on his chest. He looked confused.

“I can’t risk waking my mum.”

He nodded in understanding.

“Then I bid you goodnight, my dear Charlotte.”

He brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed my knuckles, blushing as he did.

He went to pull away, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a real kiss. It was a simple peck, nothing too crazy. It was both of our first kisses, so we didn’t really know what to do. It still made me feel giddy like all new experiences do. I pulled away, looking into his green eyes and he looked back.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Dylan.”

And before he could say anything, I ran to my bedroom window and pushed it open, slipping inside.

After I shut the window, I leaned against it and exhaled a trembling breath. I always imagined my first kiss to be an over-the-top feeling. Electricity running through my veins and setting me alight. Or fireworks to explode behind my eyelids. It was nothing like that. But I found that I didn’t mind. It felt nice. A warmth that was shared just between the two of us.

I touched my lips, imagining he was still there. A shy smile spread across my face.

“Where the hell have you been?”

My smile vanished.

***

Dylan and I were laid under the pear tree, facing each other. He was radiating nervous energy and in turn, I was feeling nervous because of it. He broke the silence with a sigh, and I felt my heart clench. Was this how ended? The past couple of months had been difficult, with both of us going to different universities. The long-distance had been hard as everyone had said it would. We had claimed that we would make it work and we had. Or I thought we had until that moment when Dylan wouldn’t look me in the eye.

I sat up and looked back at where he was still lying.

“Are you breaking up with me?” I choked out.

Dylan’s eyes widened and he sat up too.

“No. No, of course of not.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a box.

“Quite the opposite actually.” He opened the box and what was inside sparkled in the spring sunshine.

I gasped as he pulled the ring out. He took my hand and kissed it as he had all those years ago.

“Char, will you marry me?”

I felt tears budding at the corners of my eyes and nodded my head vigorously.

“Yes, of course, I will.”

He slipped the ring onto my finger and I held out my hand to admire it.

I looked back up at Dylan and pulled him into a kiss.

“I love you.”

***

James is walking me down the aisle since my father can’t be the one by my side. I feel the ache of grief that has gotten less over the years, but it still lingers as I assume it always will. I make it to the wedding arch. White with red roses threaded throughout. The pear tree stands tall behind it, its orange and yellow leaves fluttering down. I turn to look at Dylan, who looks as handsome as he always has.

I find him already looking at me.

“You look so beautiful.”

Even after all these years, I blush like I’m sixteen again.

“So do you.”

Beads of moisture gather at the edge of our eyes while exchanging our vowels.

“You may kiss the bride.”

We seal our fates with a kiss.

***

“Can I open my eyes yet?” I laugh, feeling Dylan’s hand on the small of my back as a guide.

“Almost.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes me smile wider.

We come to a stop. “Alright, you can open your eyes now.”

And I do. At first, I think it is just a regular sapling because I’m used to them being tall and branching out in all directions. But then I see the label pushed into the dirt in front of it.

Manchurian pear.

“It’s a pear tree,” I whisper.

“I know how much you love the one at your mum’s house. And I know it’s not the same. I know it could never be replaced-”

“I love it, Dylan,” I interrupt his rambling.

“I’m glad.” He grins. “And maybe when it gets big enough, we can put a swing on it. For her.”

He places a hand on my stomach, and I feel her kick.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Thanks for taking the time to read my story. It truly means a lot. Feel free to drop a like if you wanna see more content like this and subscribe if you want to read more content by me :)