Five apples high
“Do all large things not grow from small ones?”
David’s father pressed down the soil around the base of the sapling with his bare hands. He stood up and shielded his eyes with one hand along his eyebrows. The sun was so intense that it was hard to bare outside the shade. He looked down at the tree and then turned to look at his son.
“This tree might yet outlive both you and me.”
His son, David, was only five apples tall. He had a white hat with a broad rim to protect him from the sun. He held a small watering can which looked oversized in his tiny hands.
“Do you want to give it water?”
Without answering the boy stepped…