The Apricot Tree

Only one tree grew in Sam Caruso's backyard. Every morning, rain or shine, Sam would look out his bedroom window to see an apricot tree.

Sam loved that tree for so many reasons. In the spring, it had white blossoms that meant Easter was coming. In the summer, its shade was the best place to play. And when the apricots turned from green to bright orange, it was time to make pies.

One day, Sam saw his mom coming inside with a bowl of apricots. They were plump and blushing with color.

"Look, Sam," his mom said. "I'm going to make a pie for dessert tonight."

Sam finished the last bite of a cookie dipped in milk. His eyes drifted from his comic book to watch his mom rinsing each apricot.

"Sam, would you like to help me?" his mom asked as she placed the washed apricots on the countertop.

"What can I do, mom?" Sam asked. He could see his mom was already starting to make the pie. And pie meant one thing to Sam: maybe there'd be enough leftover dough for his favorite, a cinnamon roll.

Usually, Sam just watched his mom make pies. He memorized every step: sifting the dry ingredients, cutting in the shortening and water to make a big pastry ball, rolling out the dough between wax paper sheets, and placing it in the pie pan. Then came the apricots, arranged in the pie shell and sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. Finally, his mom put a second dough sheet on top and sealed the edges.

"It looks like there's enough for a cinnamon roll, Sam." That's all Sam wanted to hear because now there'd be two desserts—one for after dinner and one for tomorrow after school.

His mom set aside the apricot-filled pie shell and rolled out the leftover dough. She topped it with butter, sugar, and cinnamon, rolled it up, and pricked it with a fork for venting. Both desserts went into the oven, and Sam thought they were equally awesome.

One day, Sam came home from school to see his grandpa, Nonno Pete, dragging branches from the apricot tree out of the backyard.

"What happened, Nonno?" a stunned Sam asked.

"Your mom asked me to cut back the tree," Nonno Pete said. "But it won't be long before the tree is full again."

The next year, the tree had fewer blossoms and less fruit. Sam's mom still made pies, but not apricot ones. Each pie still had enough leftover dough for a sugary cinnamon roll for Sam. In time, the apricot tree came back to its full glory of white blossoms and bright orange fruit.