How Long Do Trees Live?

It was recess for Reynold and Vera, a pair of third graders who seemed to be joined at the hip.  They climbed over the fence, looked both ways before running across the street, and made their way to the park.  It was their little retreat, surprisingly almost always empty at this very time of day.

For any nosy child, it was clear that Reynold and Vera were in love.  For any adult, it would have been unspeakable for a boy and a girl to be alone together everyday, never mind the fact that they routinely broke the school rules by sneaking out during recess.  Luckily enough, Reynold and Vera never caught the eye of one, and their peers, so curious with their “love,” never tattled on them.  In fact, for a while, the boys would assemble at the fence and watch them, though they were so far away that the most the boys could do was make up observations for their own amusement.  In time, even the girls joined in when the boys lost interest, and they did just the same.

Realizing that an adult would very soon demand to know why the other students are gathered at the fence, Reynold and Vera eventually negotiated for them to send only one scout at a time.  Even this quickly became unbearable, so they found a tree to sit against and remain out of view.

Though Reynold and Vera could escape the other students’ attention during recess, they could not escape it in class.  Aversion to the other sex was common among the third graders, almost too common for that age.  However, they met Reynold and Vera’s “love” not with antagonism for straying from the status quo, but with wonder.  How peculiar it was for a boy and a girl to spend time together.

Today, after taking a seat against the tree, Reynold wanted to ask Vera something.

“How long do trees live?” he asked her.  Kneeling down to shape a square with twigs, she seemed to pay no attention to him.

“I don’t know,” she eventually admitted and shrugged.

“Do you think they live longer than people?”

“Definitely!”  She stood up, turned around, and looked at the tree; there were two carvings.  She pointed at the highest carving with a twig and said, “I think Mr. Beckingham made that one.  There’s nobody as tall as him!”

“What is it?  I can’t see.”

“It’s a heart, dummy!  See?”

“Kind of.  There’s something inside the heart.  Do you see that?”

“I can try to read it.  Um…nineteen…fifteen?  1915?”

“That’s twenty-one years ago!”

“There’s something else under it too, but it’s too small.  It looks like two letters, like this one.”  Vera pointed at the other carving, which was only up to their foreheads.  “MN.  DL.  There’s a heart around them too, and it’s from 1879.”

“I think that’s fifty-six, no, fifty-seven years ago.  Do you know what MN and DL are supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe it’s their name or something.  But if this was carved fifty-seven years ago, then I’ll say that maybe trees do live longer than people.  It took a long time for the tree to grow too, you know.”  By now, Reynold knew that it was now or never to ask the real question or else recess would end and he would have to wait for tomorrow.  It was a question that encapsulated his mind since the other students began giggling and snickering and whispering about him and Vera.  They must have just been stupid rumors, Reynold knew, but was there even a hint of truth in them?  If he asked any of the other students, they would say that the love was certain, and if he asked any of the adults, they would usher him away from Vera without another word.  There was nobody to turn to for an answer, nobody but Vera.

“Vera?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”  She finally sat against the tree next to Reynold and sighed.

“I don’t know, Reynold.  Everyone keeps talking about us, but I don’t know.”

“Do you think maybe they’re right?”

“No, of course they—.  I…I don’t know.”

“Vera, our lives are short, right?  Shouldn’t we make the most out of life?”

“That’s only what a tree thinks.  What if our lives are long, and a tree’s life is just really long?”

“Then, um…I guess we should try to make the most out of life anyway.”

“Is love supposed to be making the most out of life?  Oh gosh, I don’t know.”

“There are lot of things we don’t know, Vera.”

“Yeah.  Let’s quit asking questions, then.  Do you want to try to love?”

“But we don’t know what love is, do we?”

“We can find out together.  I’ll go first.  I love you.”

“I love you.”  The two sat there and let the words simmer.  Looking at the park around him, Reynold only found green, not answers.  In his young heart, he found no guide.  He looked at Vera, twiddling with her sticks and looking away.  “Vera?”

“Yeah?”  She turned to look at him.

“Do you want to make our own carving on the tree?”

“Sure.”  She looked away again.  Reynold took out his pocket knife, given to him by his father, and began to carve into the tree bark.  He started with the year, 1936, and then worked on his initials.

“Do you want to carve in your name?”

“You know I don’t like knives, Reynold,” Vera declined.  Reynold sighed and carved in Vera’s initials for her.

“I’m done.”  She turned to look at the carving.

“Where’s the heart?”

“We can do that next time, if we’re ready.”

“Thank you, Reynold.”  She smiled and reached out for him with her arms, and he gladly helped her up.  They looked both ways, ran across the street, climbed over the fence, and made it to class just in time.