Crabapple and Pear
Chris
T
The memories are under the trees, split and open to the air like the fruit that fell from their branches every year.
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Childhood
October 20, 2018
The memories are under the trees, split and open to the air like the fruit that fell from their branches every year.
I never thought much about our crabapple tree. That is, not much about it as a creature.
“Christy, Christy, where are you?” my mother called, in vain. I was only about a dozen feet away from her, but as it was 12 feet straight up, the odds of her finding me were slim.
