Story of a Tree
(based on the image "Many Stories of a Tree" by Rezzan 



Once upon a time there was a village, and in the village lived a man.
The man had a small property, a hut, located on a very distant corner of the village.

This man had been a very helpful member of the community, and also a hero.
But now, he was very sad. Every night when he sat near the fireplace he remembered happier times, when his wife and his two children shared the warmth of the fire, and laughter and love filled their home.
He remembered how -if it was not too cold or snowing too heavyly – they'd climb a nearby hill. They would always bring water with them for a beautiful wild plant that bloomed all year long. It had dozens of gorgeous purple flowers that made his wife and daughter clap their hands and smile in delight. His wife always took some home when they left, to put them in a vase in the center of the dining table. She thought that these flowers protected their home and he thought it might well be true.

On warm days they would stay longer, waiting for the sun to set. All four loved to look at the beautiful sky dyed in reds, pinks and oranges while listening to the early crickets and to the whispering wind when it blew through the long grasses. His son would always scream "there!" when the first candle light was lit at the village. This also meant it was time to go back home. Sometimes, when the atmosphere was magical, his son would pretend not to see that first light and he looked at the sky and played distracted. But then, it was their little daughter who said "a star!" And all four of them laughed.

He was the only doctor in the surroundings and also a very kind man who was helpful to his neighbors and who would do anything for them. He'd either cure any pain or fix a door or a ceiling. Nobody would go to him and get back empty handed. He always had a solution, a smile, a helping hand.

...    ...    ...    ...    ...

One day he was visited by 2 men of a distant town. Many people there were sick and there was no other doctor in miles. His presence was urgently required. Without any delay he gathered his medicines, put them in a bag, kissed his family good-bye and left in company of the men.

He was away for 8 weeks, working night and day, barely taking time to eat or sleep, doing everything he could think of to cure those who had been affected.  All his care and concern were successful and one day he could finally rest. All the sick people were now healthy and no more cases appeared.

He returned home, tired, pale and skinny, but with the feeling of an accomplished task.
His family saw him coming from the distance and all three ran towards him. There was a lot of hugging and kissing. They were radiant of seeing each other again.

The family was happy because everything would be normal again, so they planned a trip to the hill for the next day ...but on the next morning after his arrival, his children felt sick and so did his wife. He gave them medicine, but it didn't help much. That night they couldn't eat and on the next day they weren't able to get out of bed.
The man realized that he had brought the virus with him, so he quickly moved his family to a hut on a distant, isolated corner of the village and there he tried to cure them... However, this time he couldn´t see the same results. A week later, all three had died.

The man was devastated. The whole community cried with him and everyone attended the burial. The man buried his wife and children on top of the hill where they spent so many beautiful afternoons together.  
There and then, he also decided he would never return to his former home. His friends tried to convince him not to stay at the hut, but he wouldn't listen. He could only blame himself for the death of his family and he refused to move back to the home they once shared so happily.    

He returned to his house to gather just the most elemental tools and a few clothes. When he was leaving and about to close the door, he spotted the vase with dry purple flowers on the table. His eyes filled with tears, he walked towards the table, reached for the vase and put it carefully under his arm. Then, he walked back to the door and closed it forever. He gave a long look to his house and shaking his head with sadness, headed to the hut. Upon arrival, he tenderly kissed the dry flowers in the vase and placed it on a small table. Then he laid on his bed and cried.

Since that day, he created a routine. In the morning, he worked a small parcel he had prepared where he planted some vegetables. At midday, he would have a simple meal. The people of the village helped him whenever they could, leaving little gifts near his door step, mostly meat, milk and bread.
But he would not show himself or speak to any of them anymore. He was only drifting through life...
He only felt well on top of the hill. Every afternoon, with sun, rain, storm or blizzard, he would climb to sit near his family's grave and the purple flowers . And he would talk to them as he would do with an old friend, remembering happier days. He never cut another flower because the dry ones in the vase had been touched by his wife. They were so precious to him...

...    ...    ...    ...    ...

3 years went by, until one winter's night, while the man was sitting near the fireplace, he heard a knock at the door.
And then again.  
And again.
And again.   

That was very unusual. Everyone in the village knew he wouldn't open.

But there was that knocking again.
And again.
And again.

Finally, he stood up and opened the door.

A strange woman was standing at the door step in front of him.  She was not young, she was not old. Actually, he could not guess her age. Dressed all in black and purple, there was something familiar and special about her that he could not define.

She smiled briefly at the man and stepped in, very decided. The man moved to the side to let her in without trying to stop her. He had the strange feeling that he had been waiting for her without even knowing. She was not a common woman at all. Still, he wondered who she could be, but spoke no word.

The woman sat on a rug near the fireplace and took several items out of a hidden pocket in her dress: seeds, a funnel, a bottle with green liquid, a bottle with transparent liquid, a cup, a mortar, a little bag made of many leaves sewed together and a tiny wooden spoon.

She looked at the standing man and showing his stool with a friendly gesture, she nodded, inviting him to take his seat. He sat down.

Then, the woman used the spoon to get a glowing purple powder from the small bag.
One, two, three, four spoons.   All four were poured with precision into the mortar.

Then, she selected four seeds, dropped them into the mortar and started working, squeezing, pressing.

The man saw some light purple sparkles rising from the mortar, which turned darker and darker as the woman worked more and more with the content. At a certain point, the sparkles were very dark. She stopped pressing and reached for the bottle with green liquid. She removed the cap and very carefully poured one, two, three, four drops into the mortar.

And then she started her maneuvers again.
Pressing, squeezing, moving, stirring.

After several minutes, a cloud of smoke rose from the mortar forming a small flower and the woman stopped stirring. Then, she took the cup and poured the mix into it. She opened the bottle with the transparent liquid and emptied it into the cup, then stirred again with the spoon until the content was fully mixed, showing a beautiful dark reddish-purple shade.

She stood up and walked towards the vase with the dry flowers and removed one with reverence. The man felt an unbearable sadness in his heart and tears started rolling down on his face.
Her eyes, too, were filled with tears.

She approached and touched one of his tears with the purple flower and then her own, and the flower recovered its beauty, as if it had been cut seconds ago. The man opened wide eyes, very surprised, but again he spoke no word.  The woman sat down in front of the cup, removed all the petals from the flower, dropped them in the cup and stirred.  A cloud rose again, but this time the shape that appeared in the rising smoke was a majestic tree.

The woman smiled, raised the cup and using the funnel on the empty bottle, filling it completely.  She closed it and handed it over to the man.

" Drink it tomorrow at dusk, at the top of the hill" , she whispered softly.
Then, without awaiting for an answer, she picked her items, placed them in her pocket and left through the door.

The man looked at the bottle. It was warm and touching it made him feel better than ever.
The sadness was gone and he couldn't understand why.
He felt almost happy.  

"Tomorrow at dusk...I'll be there."
And he went to sleep.

...   ...   ...   ...   ...

On the next day, he visited his friends at the village and invited them to come to his hut at night. Everyone was very happy to see him there again. He seemed to be feeling much better... maybe now he would return to his house and live among them.
Of course, they would go that night! It would be their pleasure!

...    ...    ...    ...    

He placed the bottle in the pocket of his jacket and left a letter for his friends on the table, near the vase with the dry purple flowers.  Next, he opened the door, gave a last look at the inside of the hut and closed the door behind him.  Then, he headed towards the hill.

...    ....   ...  ...

He sat down where he always did, near the grave and the plant his wife and girl loved so much. It was full of blooms and purple flowers. The sky was so beautiful ... and the sun was about to set. Only a few clouds could be seen and they were getting dyed by the colors of dusk.

"Welcome!" , he heard.  
He turned around and saw the same woman standing where the plant with the purple flowers was before.  
"I've seen your tears and felt your sadness day after day for three years, and I just couldn't stand it anymore. You and your family shared so many beautiful afternoons here with me, you cared for me, took me home with you ... So I talked to my mother, the Earth, and asked her if she would agree to bring you here to be with us forever. She also knew about your suffering and she rapidly agreed."

She made a pause and asked: "Did you bring the bottle with you?"

The man nodded.

" If you drink it, you will lose your current life to gain another. You will change for good.  You will become one with Mother Earth, me and your family buried here, for you will be transformed.  No need for you to eat, sleep or cry again. You will not feel sad or lonely, for Mother Earth takes care of all her children and brings warmth to every one. You will hear the songs of the birds and the wind will rock you gently. The snow will be your disguise in winter and the leaves will be your joyful friends in summer. You will see the world change, but to you, time will mean nothing."

The man took the cap off the bottle.  "That would be nice", he said.

" Then drink and find your peace", she answered.

And the man drank.

...   ...   ...   ...   ...

"I love this tree, you know?", the little girl said to her grandfather. "How old is it?"

"It is very, very, very old, Sweetie. Veeeery old. And it has a beautiful story, too!"

"A story? I love stories Grandpa! Would you please tell it to me?" she said, clapping hands, her face looking up, showing adorable hope.

The old man looked around and sat near a beautiful wild plant full of purple flowers. He sat the girl on his lap and said:

"Well, it all started with a letter found in a hut of a man when the city you see down there was just a village. Not a big city like today, but a very small town, you know?", he paused and then continued: "I'm pretty sure that this is a true story, but not many believe it. They say it's just a legend, but my grandfather heard it from his grandfather, and now it is my turn to tell it to you..."

With her eyes wide open, the girl asked: "And I will tell the story to my grandchildren one day?"

"So I hope!!", the old man nodded smiling, "so I hope!"

The girl's expression changed and she said: "Then please get started and I promise to be very, very quiet and pay attention !"

"Ok, Sweetie. Listen well!:

Once upon a time there was a village, and in the village lived a man.
The man had a small property, a hut, located on a very distant corner of the village..."