The Sun was about to disappear behind the green hills scattered around the estate.
Another ordinary autumn evening.
Sitting comfortably in his easy chair the old professor was looking at the bookshelf in front of him.
What a splendid collection. Thousands of books covered by dust, thousands of stories sitting quietly but eagerly waiting to be resurrected at least one more time in someone’s imagination.
But not all stories are written in the books. Some stories we keep deep inside.
And during the last sixty years the professor was living with the memory of such a story.
The very last minute of his dying grandfather. That unforgettable moment, when the old man suddenly opened his eyes wide and with unexpected glimpse of boundless power as it was coming from another dimension, told him:
“Son, you see the old apple tree over there, right son? You may think that the most important in this tree is its foliage which makes it so beautiful or the strong branches standing against the time, or maybe you can think that the fruits it humbly gives us each year is the purpose of this tree.
But you are wrong, my son, the green leaves will rot when autumn comes, and even the strongest branches may fall down broken when the severe winter wind starts blowing. And all these apples, they are so delicious and although they have collected each shiny sunray they could ever catch, they are still not the real purpose of this tree.
The real purpose, son, is hidden inside the little seeds in the core of the apple as they contain all the wisdom of its ancestors and only they have the unique power to hand over this wisdom to the future. Each generation grows better and better. That is why life will never disappear…”
The words of the professor’s grandfather were echoing in his mind from the distance of the years, when suddenly his reflections were interrupted by his own grandson who jumped into the room with an excited yell:
“Granddaddy, granddaddy, look what I have found in the garden. Look how beautiful they are.”
The little boy was holding two splendid rosy apples just picked from the tree.
The professor leaned back on the easy chair and sighed.
-Yes, my son, indeed, beautiful they are.
