Under The Old Cherry Tree

There she lay, her lavender sundress flowing in the light spring breeze. The mild sun finally peaking out of the clouds to dance across her face and make her green eyes sparkle. Her naturally red locks became stunning next to the new green grass just sprouted from the winters end. A pretty girl none the less, with an even more beautiful mind, her name was Mary Jane Steavens. Every day, around 4:15 p.m. she would come to this little retreat and let her mind wonder. She would think about her past troubles, current loves and the friends she came to know over the years. Sit under the cherry tree and write stories about her dream life, her dream man. Whenever there was unbearable tension at her home, this is where she would escape too in order to maintain her sanity. Sit by the little stream and wash away her tears, her insecurities. Nobody knows where this haven is, it’s for Mary and Mary only. Even her best friend with which she confided everything in had no idea Mary’s place even existed. Mary never once uttered the words of her getaway. One morning she was awakened by the yells of her father arguing with her mother. Her dad went out drinking the night before and didn’t stumble home until late that night, and her mother has had enough of his problem which causes confusion, anger and depression rolled into one little ball in the pit of Mary’s stomach. She hates that her parents fight so much, how her dad gets so drunk he doesn’t even know she exists. How her mother is so blind to how much this whole situation is effecting her. How she feels so alone, and nobody wants to talk to her, help her. Every day around 4:15 p.m. she would come to this little retreat, and let her mind wonder. She sits under the cherry tree and writes about how she wishes her life will be someday. A big old country house surrounded by trees and flowers, a big back yard so the kids can run and play. A wonderful husband by her side who she shares undying love with.
One of the last times I saw Mary Jane, it was a hot summer afternoon, and she wasn’t alone. I remember seeing in her journal about a guy she had met. How he was so charming and honest. He made her feel like no one else could ever fathom. He respected her inside and out, and he thought she was the most beautiful girl in all the world. She brought him here, around 4:15 p.m. and sat with him under the cherry tree and told him she loved him. That she thought he was the most amazing man she ever met and she knew that he was meant to be in her life forever. She kissed him and just sank her green eyes into his deep blues. He sat there for a moment and gathered his thoughts, brushed the hair away from Mary’s face and asked her to marry him. First she smiled, then the tears started to pour out her eyes while she cried out yes. She pulled him in for a passionate hug and then they were gone. I remember seeing her write that they were going to leave together, flee the city to start a life together. Months passed and everyday around 4:15 p.m. Mary was not under that cherry tree. Years and years went by before I finally saw her again, but this time Mary Jane was not who she used to be. She was hidden, why is she laying in that wooden box? Why are all these people here? This is just Mary’s spot. Why are you putting her in the ground? Why isn’t she up here with all of us? It was 4:15 p.m. on a cool autumns day, the preacher spoke soft sweet words of Mary Jane Steavens. How no matter what hard times came her way, she never let it interfere with her hopes and dreams. How she was so kind to every person who crossed her path. How she would come here, right beneath this cherry tree everyday to write and escape reality for a little. Everyone bowed their head in a moment of silence to reminisce about Mary, and slowly one by one, they were all gone. All that was left was me, and Mary just six feet under my roots. I don’t think anyone knows it, but I believe Mary Jane Steavens continues to live through me, this old cherry tree. Every spring a new flower emerges from the ends of my branches, big lavender flowers with the brightest green centers, just like Mary’s eyes. I believe she’s at peace now, she’s where she belongs. Every day at around 4:15 p.m. this old cherry tree grows a little taller and stronger, keeping the spirit of Mary alive and breathing through the bark.