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The Peach Tree
The smoke immediately blurs my vision and the crisp sizzle of added oil stings my ears. I carefully strengthen my wrists to grip the metal pan that holds the pungent bowl of fried rice. Lifting the pan a little higher, I give the contents of the pan a few more seconds to warm over the cooker before sending it away. An empty white plate is already set on the counter as I smoothly pour the rice onto the space.
“Order #342 is ready!” I holler across to the other side of the counter and swipe off another order sheet from the long line of hungry demands. My eyes start focusing on the sheet again and I begin the routine I have followed for 17 years, in 7 different places.
“1 order of Spicy Peach Chicken, extra peaches” it read.
Peaches. I was reminded of one of my only childhood pleasures. I remember guiding my sister towards our favorite peach tree everyday at noon. The one that was older than my 11 year old self at the time. It had arched into a 6 feet silhouette and spread its slim branches above our heads. My mind wandered back to the times more far back in journey than time...
“Ge! Hurry up and help me reach that really big, ripe one!” Fen, my little sister, shouted as she shot her arm up to point up the tree. We were in our family’s backyard and today was another workday. A woven basket was hitched on the side of my hip as I was armed for the climbing and collecting of the day. I chuckled as I ran towards her small figure because I knew that my sister always needed my height to reach any moderately ripe peaches. “Hold on, maybe if you shout louder the peaches will fall down by themselves because of all the ruckus.” I teased and set down my basket. My gaze turned upwards towards the alleged giant peach, except my vision is immediately blinded by the glares of the unforgiving sun. As much as our tree’s abundant leaves aided us with shade, the sun was altogether superior today. The sweat droplets already forming on my forehead motivate me to hike myself up onto the first branch and easily break off a vibrant peach.
“Higher!” Fen urged, “That one is huge, and it probably tastes amazing!” and I could distantly hear a slurp of her licking her lips. My eyes catch sight of the baseball-sized peach a few feet to my right and I rigorously scale the distance in between. With a swift swipe, my hands grab hold of the fruit and after one strong tug, it disconnects from the branch mothering it. A smile spreads on my face while my sister’s excited cheers sound from below. I hop down onto the soft beds of soil and victoriously hand the peach to Fen. Fen’s eyes color with fulfillment as she says, “This is the harvest of the year, Ge! We could probably eat this for weeks.”
“Children!” Our mother suddenly approaches from behind us, “How’s the work going? We need all the peaches we can get so that your father can start a factory.”
“Look, Mama. We harvested this huge peach! Let’s go cut it up.” Fen exclaimed with her arms stretched out. Mother caught sight of our treasure and said, “Great work you guys, that peach must be worth a lot. Go take that to our neighbors so that we can trade for some rice or money.” After hearing these words, Fen’s face dropped and my heart followed. I hated being the constant burden to our neighbors, but dinner is soon and hunger does not wait. “Don’t we have those picked berries from last week?” Fen desperately suggested. “Those run out fast and do not fill enough of our stomach, you need energy to work everyday.” Mother explained, “Do not worry, we won’t have to live like this for much longer. Father is coming close to owning a new factory for our peaches. Soon we will make our work into money and then into lots of food.” I signaled to Fen to give up and follow me towards the Wang family farm. We trudged across the dirt road; Fen polishing the big peach, me collecting edible plants along the way. When we reached their house, I walked into their living room to see Mrs.Wang setting their table with china.
“Mrs.Wang, could we please have some of your rice for tonight? We have a fresh and plump peach from today. Look how big it is! It will make you look young forever.” I quickly showed her the fruit. “Of course, my boy.” She replied laughing, “I have lots of extra today so enjoy yourself!” Then she rushes to the kitchen and back with a metal pot filled with steaming white rice. I took the pot from her hands and thanked her again in routine.
As we walked back home, I felt a feeling of uneasiness; uneasiness that I was carrying the rice our family was going to eat tonight, but it was held in someone else’s pot. As we approached our farm, the silhouette of our peach tree stood tall and mighty. The winds are high tonight, but it still stands unwavering. The scene gives me hope for our tiny farm. I ponder at the bristling leaves of the tree and begin to appreciate the beauty of this…
“Bossman!” a shout quickly grabs my attention and stirs me from a memory. “Bossman, the chicken. They’re waiting.” A chef to my right says directing his eyes towards the still uncooked chicken in my hand. The fire from the cooker contrasts with the warm and reminiscing feeling remaining near my chest. I smiled and replied with a renewed consciousness, “Coming right up! 1 Spicy Peach Chicken…EXTRA peaches.”
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This memoir is from the perspective of my dad, who is the owner of a self-established Asian restaurant, and comes from a personal experience he told me about.