Mom Winked

Mom winked from beyond.

She had a favorite apple tree. Everybody in the family knew it. Dad loved his whole orchard, but Mom had a favorite.

I shared my mother’s passion. Her tree produced the best apples. But, like most fruit trees in northern Utah in 2026, it suffered the ravages of a late frost.

I walked through the orchard several times this spring and summer. I couldn’t find a surviving blossom or fruit.

After Mom passed in April, I paid particular attention to her tree. By mid-July, I’d given up. I’d walked around the tree too many times. There was not an apple to be found.

Now, Mom’s house, my childhood home, is for sale. I hate to see it go, but I don’t have the resources to keep it in the family. It makes me sad.

As I backed out of the driveway and around the lawn for one of the last times, I stopped next to Mom’s tree. I didn’t usually stop there. There was no reason for me to be there. I reflexively looked up. There it was, tucked behind some protective leaves. One green apple, just the size Mom loved.

It made me smile. It was tart, juicy, and delicious, just the way she liked them.

Thanks, Mom.