hit hardest

A few weeks ago, the man on the market who usually sells vegetables and fruits was missing. At first I thought he just went on holidays, probably to some place where no fruit or vegetables were bothering his mind. But than rumors arrived,that something has happened. But what happened exactly no one knew. The stories grew wild and wilder as fruit or vegetable does in the summer, when there is enough rain and I often thought of the man, his always earthy fingers, his green apron and his chariot where all the goods were piled up high. And I thought of his fields and his garden and how it might feel for men who always earth crumbs beyond his nails not to be able to be outside to look after the salads, the carrots, let alone the raspberries and strawberries, all this gold of summer. Then I went away, I bought fruits and vegetables else where, slept under a cherry tree and have had red fingers for two days of cherry harvest. When I returned I heard that the man from the market was back, but the queues who always had been long at this stall, in front of his wooden chariot were missing. There was rumor, people were saying that he lost his mind. But I never trust rumor and I am not sure if I myself did lost my mind many years ago and so I went as usual to the man on the market, to buy vegetables and fruits. The man did not look good. The man looked beaten. Beaten up. His eyes were restless and flickering, the movements of his hands and limbs delayed like in a slow-motion scene. While he fills my bags with leek and carrots, grabs peas and a cauliflower and I am not sure what to ask, because: are you alright would be just cynical when someone is so obvious not alright at all, he begins to tell me that out of the blue, very sudden the trees wanted him evil. I nod. He rolls his eyes up and down. They just waited for the right moment he says and I search for a tenner. Maybe the trees I start to say something helpless, but he interrupts me and points at a small, tiny laurel-tree in front of a gate, he says the tree are listening very well. So I grabbed my bags and left. It’s good to have you back, say I ,but the vendor looks at me with deep distrust as he could not be sure anymore that I am not hand in gloves with the trees myself. A few days later, at the dentist I learn by someone who knows the vendor’s wife that he has tried  to fell two trees in his backyard but something went wrong and he got hit by the massive tree, spent weeks in the hospital and it is not quite sure if he ever will recover from a tree, he wanted to fell, falling down and left alone with the evil.

2 thoughts on “hit hardest

  1. This is a multi-layered story with much to think about. I don’t think I’ll soon forget the fruit and vegetable man in the market. On a more personal note, I, too have had fingers stained from harvesting cherries for a few days, which makes me very happy.

  2. Often the very small stories stay with us, often we do not even know why and they tend to come back to us with a long echo. But I am sure, there are still to few stories, praising the luck of having one or more cherry trees!

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