Growing up, a distance apart

So, I was walking home the other day when something strange happened. It was a hot day so I kept my eyes low and just as I turned into the road leading to my house, I saw it. Standing silently, on the opposite side of the road, was the tree. My tree. The one that wasn't supposed to grow.

I walked towards it slowly, dreading the feeling of disappointment once I knew it was my mistake. I reached out and felt its bark. Yes! It is the same. Excitedly, I placed my face closer to inspect its leaves. It's the same! My heart exclaimed again. But hang on, the leaves of every tree looked the same to me too. So I backed up and changed my approach. Walking around it, I searched for traces of evidence that would prove me wrong.

"Hello there," someone from behind me said.

I turned and met his eyes. " Oh, hello!" I said, slightly startled.

It was an old man in his 60s. He was dressed in the most peculiar manner. Donned in a sports outfit with a baseball cap, he would be thought as an athlete if not for the walking cane he held in his right hand.

"Do you like that?" he asked, pointing to my tree.

"Yes," I replied, "I think I have a similar one in my backyard."

And that started our conversation. I told him of my failed attempts to cultivate the tree and he joked that I must have picked the most stubborn seed of the lot. I soon learned that he was botanist and was amazed by the amount of things he knew about my tree.

"The seeds of this tree will only germinate when they are of considerable distance of each other to prevent competition of nutrients," he said.

We stood there, beneath my tree. Talking, laughing and listening to each other's story.

"Isn't it great?" I told the tree in my backyard when I got home, "you've got a family."

And if trees could smile, I am sure my tree would be smiling its bestest smile then.

The end.

This fictitious story is a continuation from the one I wrote in March 2009.