The Fruit of Labor

...The Fruit of Labor1


Before, my family lived in a shanty overlooking the sea. Me, my wife and two eldest sons survived in the simplest way of life because I was saving to buy my own land and build my own house in it. I could remember my co-employees tease me most of the time. They say I am sustaining two wives. This extra-marital affair is the reason why I only have jeans, shirt and rubber shoes as an office attire as compared to their slacks and tie paired by newly shined leather shoes.

But they didn’t offend me at all. In just a few years, I had my own lot covering about 3150 square meters along the national highway and a jeepney-ride to the city. I bought it from a student who would demand payment from me whenever he needed it for school until I finally completed the purchase price and he, finally graduating.

At first, the land is not suitable for residential purpose. It looked like a little jungle in the urbans. It has uneven slopes, snakes, thorny plants and it is really rocky. But we managed to clear the area and converted it to residential-agricultural land to serve our purpose. It is a self-fulfillment for me to have my own land from my hard-earned salary. For the first time I feel so proud as a husband and a father to my family.

But one day, I saw my two sons by the fence talking to my neighbor’s children. As I listened to their childish conversation, I learned that my sons are asking for some mangoes from them. One of them took one fruit and tried to hand it to Ferdinand on the other side. As my son stretch his arm to reach out, the child would pull back his hand laughing. For how many times they did that and as many times my son is always eager to reach the mango. As a father I am hurt. I am hurt because for just one mango, my children are like beggars. For just one fruit…And as a father, I want to give them the best I could.

Since then, I gathered seedlings from friends and relatives and filled my lot with fruit bearing trees. Majority of which are mangoes of different varieties. Every after work from the company, I water my plants till ten in the evening. It became my daily routine. When my neighbors would see me, they would yell, “Andy its late! And by the time those trees bear fruit, you won‘t be able to taste them anymore.” It seems that by the time these trees will grow, I’m probably dead.

For me that is a foolish idea. I am planting not for myself but for my children, my family. And they forgot that I am an agriculturist. Despite what I learned in school, I also researched and sought expert advice on how to tend the plants properly. With these knowledge coupled with determination and perseverance, I learned to cross-breed the trees. Usually, trees bear their first fruits on the 5th or 6th year. This was before when there are still no advance methods or techniques in Agriculture. Mere elementary processes were employed on my trees. After four short years, they bore fruits that I and my children became the envy of the neighborhood.

For now, it is my joy to see my children and grandchildren feasting on the fruits that I had worked for years. And fortunately, I have lived long enough to taste the fruit of my labor.

Author's Note:
Is it enough to settle for less?