Dean planted the apple tree in our backyard in the spring of 2013, just four months before he died. He had been seriously ill, but neither of us wanted to spend our time talking about the future. One afternoon, he pointed to a sunny corner of the yard and said, **“Right there. That’s where it should go. The light is perfect.”** I did most of the digging while he watched from a chair, giving me advice. When we finished, he placed his hand on the tiny trunk and said, **“Give it time. It’ll surprise you.”**

Four months later, Dean was gone. For two years, the tree produced no apples, and I almost had it removed. Then, in its third spring, it suddenly bloomed. That autumn, it produced twelve apples. Over the years, it became stronger and produced more fruit than I could use. I made pies and cider, but mostly I gave apples to neighbors and children. The tree slowly became something the whole neighborhood enjoyed.

Then a new neighbor, Ryan, complained that branches crossed the fence and apples fell into his yard. I offered to trim the branches and clean up the fruit, but he insisted, **“I want it gone.”** I eventually had the tree professionally trimmed, yet the complaints continued. One night, hundreds of apples were scattered across my lawn and several branches were damaged. Ryan claimed, **“Must have been a strong wind.”** But my security camera showed someone entering my yard, picking apples, and damaging the tree. I saved the footage and reported the incident.

An arborist later confirmed that the tree would survive. The damaged branches were repaired, and Ryan was held responsible for the damage and expenses. Afterward, the neighborhood seemed closer than before. Neighbors began helping one another, and we eventually held a community apple day with pies, cider, and baskets of fruit.

Years later, the tree is larger than ever. Every autumn, I still give most of its apples away. When children ask if they can pick one, I always say yes. Looking at the tree now, I no longer think only about what I lost. I think about what grew from it. Dean was right: **“Give it time.”** The tree survived loss, damage, and difficult seasons—and somehow became a living part of the present.