Growth 🥭

the mango tree in the parking lot is the one thing that’s always been the same. we’ve joked a couple of times about how if even a cyclone had gone right over it, the tree would still have stood there.

in a world that changes as fast as the one that we live in, it’s nice to have that one little bubble of eternity.

the first time i noticed the mango tree’s existence was probably when i was five years old. i was lost -i think, i don’t fully remember how it happened- and i had somehow stumbled out of the shopping complex and into the parking lot.

the lot, of course, was far from empty. on a weekend like that, along with all the sales in the shops at the moment, who would have stayed inside? i had wandered around the cars for a few moments, getting more and more panicked every second, and eventually stumbled across the tree.

it had been little more than a sapling at that point, but it was a tiny speck of green in the grey concrete of the parking lot, and i had sat down next to it. my mother had found me there, eventually, squatting next to the small plant and poking at an ant nearby.

after that, probably a week or so later, the shopping complex was torn down. some big builder had been put in charge of turning the lot into a set of trendy apartment homes, and that was exactly what happened. the entire plot was leveled to the ground- but somehow, through some miracle, the tree was left untouched. i was probably the only person who noticed it, when we passed by the construction site almost three weeks later. i’d pointed it out, not thinking much of it, as a child would, not really realizing how interesting that was. my mother, though, had been intrigued… until she forgot about it a few weeks later. i didn’t forget, though.

we never really did find an answer for that.

although i had been thinking about the tree for a long time, i didn’t see it again for another year or so- even though i lived only five minutes away by foot. by chance, i happened to pass by the lot a year later, and by chance i happened to see the tree first. it had grown a great deal from when i had last seen it, even though it had only been a year and mango trees aren’t exactly known for their growth rate. of course, there wasn’t any fruit on it yet- it was still too young for that.

after that, we moved. the mango tree slowly began to slide from my head, the little cave it had carved in my mind was filled with thoughts of school and friends instead. it wasn’t completely forgotten, though, whenever mangoes were brought up, my mind did flash to it for a very brief instant.

the curiosity was gone though. i had no questions about a tree that i’d never see again… or so i thought.

when i was fifteen years old, we moved back. it was an entirely new experience, living in a place so familiar yet so changed- the apartment complex the mango tree was in had been converted into yet another shopping center, except this one was a lot more newfangled than the small mall before the apartment.

at this point, it was comical how the mango tree was left untouched. by now, it had also begun to bear fruit. my sister had let out a shout of joy when she first caught sight of the ripening mangoes hanging from the branch, grabbing a piece of gravel and proceeding to knock a couple down. they were delicious, we found out over dinner, contrary to what our father had said barely minutes before we ate them. sweet, but barely so.

now, i am almost thirty. we never moved again, and after my sister and i grew up, we didn’t move out either. i see the mango tree every day on my way to work; it’s growing old. i don’t think anyone else really does more than take it for granted. the fruit is still delicious, and honestly, it’s a miracle i’ve been able to sneak into the parking lot and get away with the fruit without the security noticing… but i’m not questioning it.