The Egg Tree

This happened long before, when we planted an egg in the middle of our garden.

At first we thought it wouldn’t work. We waited for quite some time—the whole afternoon, in fact—until we heard a rooster crow.

We saw something, then. But you wouldn’t see it at first, unless you looked really, really hard.
We saw, on a silver string stem, what looked like a tiny round leaf.
A timid green, frail thing.

It wouldn’t grow any taller after that, and we left after too many mosquitoes bit us too many times.

The next morning, we were greeted (upon waking) with balmy winds, bacon sizzles, and a rooster crow. And when the moment of realization hit our muddled heads—we learned from yesterday, that a rooster’s crow seemed to do a lot for the plant, see—we ran as fast as we could down the stairs and through the gate. Breathless, we stepped softly but hastily on the soil and found our way to the middle of our garden.

We peeked from behind the bushes, and it was beautiful. We went closer, and I found out that it now stood up to my knee. And where it stood was exactly where the sun shone; and all around, dew made everything sparkly and clean and new.

It had five leaves, all perfectly circular and not egg-shaped at all. It was fantastic.

I don’t know how long we stood there, how long we gaped at the egg tree (it seemed to be heading in that direction), but soon a distant bell rang and we were told that breakfast was getting cold. We walked back, then—a bit hesitantly—and when we reached the gate, we heard another crow, but we knew that it would be upsetting for our mother dear if we preferred a plant to her cooking, even if it was a strange, wonderful plant, so we walked inside, into the warmth of the indoors.

 

Oh, but not for long.

 

Soon, we were back to the crunching twigs and flitting shadows. We had our summer hats on and it made a different kind of shadow when the sun shines on us. It had little holes in between the weavings that twinkled like golden diamonds on the ground.

Then we arrived at the middle of the garden. It was quite different from the plant-tree we left a few minutes ago. This time, we had to lift our head to see the top of it. It was most definitely a tree. I tried to see if I could climb it, but the branches were still as bendy as vegetable stalks. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after, it might grow into a mighty, climbable tree.

I can wait.