When I briefly lived in Cameroon 16 years ago, I was so homesick I could barely breathe. I took solace spending my free lunch time under a huge mango tree in a school yard. I’d sit on the concrete step of a classroom (not in session) and look across the yard at the huge tree. It was probably 50 feet tall and had arms that stretched wide, with thick green leaves. If you stood under it, you could see tangerine mangos high above. The lower limbs had been plucked clean, furry pits strewn about the dirt school yard.
I’d sit on that stoop, or stoep, depending on your African linguistics, and think of my mom and dad. I’d wonder what my brother was doing in high school that day. I’d think of one of my closest friends, who was pregnant with her first child and due any day.
I spent a lot of lunches staring at the limbs of that great tree, watching birds come and go and dreaming of the comfort of home.
There is a tree not far from my home today where I find similar solace. Mercifully, I’m no longer sick of any sort. Instead, I get to this tree and rest in the lush green grass, letting Nelson off the leash to chase bunnies in the nearby desert brush, and relax. It is just the right size for shade and warmth. It is the perfect thinking tree.