I did not know what to expect when I knocked on the door of the house my parents had built in 1948. The door, now bright green, had a new brass knocker, although the old brass keyhole and doorknob were the original ones I remembered. This was no longer my home. 1 was just passing through town.
When a young man opened the door, I blurted out, My mother and father built this house. It was their home for many years and mine when I was young. May I please have some of those pears on the ground and hanging heavy on the branches? My dad planted those trees—”
“Do you want a sack or a basket?” laughed the young man. “Take all you want. I’m a history major at the college here. My parents own the house. They were renting it, hut. now they let me live here. I’d like to know about the house.”
So I stepped inside. “Those are the hardwood floors I knew. It was my job to paste wax and polish them, once a week.” I looked and pointed. “That was my bedroom. That was...”
The young man listened. He showed me his choices of fresh paint, excellent colors [or the house, this house no longer my home. I myself had chosen blue wallpaper and a floral border for my room when I was young. I loved making choices then
I stepped back outside, quickly. 1 clutched a strong bag. I filled it with pears from a tree in the front yard. Then, I walked back to a pear tree that had been special to my mother, the Ofl just outside her kitchen window, which brought first blooms of spring to her, year after year. From that tree, 1 picked a few more pears.
Later on that rainy autumn day in 2010, I shared the pears with our daughter and grandson as my husband and I passed through their city on our 360-mile trip back to the place where we live now.
“These are pears from trees your great-grandfather planted,” 1 said to my grandson. He remembers his great-grandfather, that house. those trees.
We ate the pears and decided they were the best we’d ever tasted.
Some of the remaining pears were soft and turning brown by the time I got home. I dug a hole and planted them. Who knows? The pears come from good stock. They may thrive here.