Storytime: Apples

Last night was Pip's festival of apples. But before it could begin, the Tribe meeting lasted far too long, and I came upon the time to return home before I was able to participate and give the story I had prepared. So, journal, I record it for you here, because it will not be heard now.

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Once, there was a lovely garden of apple trees, and they had just begun to bear fruit. One fruit, a magnificent red apple, shone with color brighter than all the rest.

“I will be the greatest apple in this orchard,” it thought to itself. “For there is none more beautiful than I.” And it was true. No other apple was quite as fine as this one, and all of the other apples loved it.

But that night, a great storm fell upon the orchard, and many leaves and branches were lost to the wind. The beautiful apple was knocked from its tree and fell onto the ground. When the sun rose, the apple grieved only briefly, for it still shone a brighter, more luscious red than any other. 

“I am on the ground now,” it thought. “But I am still the most beautiful apple in this orchard.”

As the run rose higher and the ground dried from the storm, worms crept out and began to eat the fallen apple. Helpless, it was holed through and hollowed to the core. But the apple did not despair. “I may no longer be the most beautiful,” it thought, “but here, in this orchard, I am yet among my kind and am loved.”

When night fell again, the crows picked over the ravaged orchard, and one of them plucked up the fallen apple, now but a core, and carried it away. For miles it flew, far beyond the boundaries of its home.

Then, the crow dropped the apple on a distant hill, alone.

The apple wept, for now it had lost its beauty, its home, and those that loved it. It was no longer bright and red. It was no longer among its kind. It sat there through the night, crying to the moon in anguish.

The moon, hearing the cries, turned and looked down upon the apple. “Why do you weep?” she asked.

“Oh moon,” the apple replied. “I have lost my beautiful red color, my family, and now I am all alone. There is nothing left but to weep.”

“You have one thing yet to give,” the moon smiled. “Be at peace, little apple. For where you lay is good soil, and you will see the greatness within.”

The apple halted its tears, and waited. And when the sun rose in the morning, its seeds fell onto the earth. From those seeds, a mighty apple tree sprouted. It was the finest, largest apple tree that has ever grown. And bore the brightest, reddest fruit of any in the world.

So, while we may not know what design is made for us, we should not despair when hardships rise. They are but markers, pauses on the journey to what you will become. For no matter our appearance, it is in all of us that greatness resides.