An impossible friend?

Do you remember that tall tree

with the wide trunk and knotted roots?

The one that stood alone in the middle

of a wide field that seemed to stretch for miles.

No? You don't?

Well, it was an apple tree.

And like all apple trees,

most of the good fruit was up high

where no one could reach.

In the summer,

I would climb it, clutching each branch like my life

depended on it.

I could've sworn the tree helped me reach the top.

Perhaps lifting me.

I would dig my teeth into the sweet, juicy apples

with my back leaning against the tree trunk.

I could go as far as to say that we formed

an impossible friendship.

Me and an apple tree.

The tree even knew my name... Kinda.

I had etched it onto its bark with a sharp rock.

I remember coming home to my family,

talking about my adventures.

They would smile and nod.

But after months of such stories,

we had a talk about imaginary friends

and how I should instead try to find

real, human ones.

I would throw a fit

saying my tree was the only friend I needed.

One autumn evening, I was riding my bike past the

never-ending field when I did a quick double take.

The tree wasn't in its usual spot.

In fact, it wasn't there at all.

Not a stump.

Not a twig,

Not a leaf.

I remember running through the field

eyes watering, telling myself that it couldn't be gone.

Weeks past by.

I did end up finding real friends.

And of course, even to them

I would describe the adventures I

had with the perfectly climbable tree.

I told them how unfair I thought it was

that it had to be cut down.

They would look at each other

and express their confusion.

One of my friends, you, told me

that your mother worked near that field.

You remarked that you've never seen

a large apple tree

standing alone in the middle of that field.

So, that's when I began to wonder.

Was the tree my impossible friend,

or an imaginary friend?

Or just nothing at all?

It had felt so real.

How the bark felt on my fingers.

The taste of the perfectly sweet apples.