Jan 7 • NEW MEMBERS ~ SHARE YOUR STORY
The Tree That Remembered Wishes
Every morning, just as the first golden ray touched the earth, the old mango tree in the middle of the field would wake up. Its branches were heavy—not just with deep green leaves and blushing mangoes, but with hundreds of tiny, colorful fruits that didn’t quite belong: ruby-red guavas, golden starfruit, even strange violet orbs no one could name.
Long ago, children from nearby villages used to come here. They didn’t pick the fruit. Instead, each child tied a ribbon or a piece of colored cloth to a branch and whispered a secret wish.
“I want to see the sea someday,” little Ayesha had said, tying a blue strip.
“I’ll become a singer,” young Karim promised, adding red.
“I just want my mother to smile again,” whispered tiny Noor, hanging a soft pink thread.
Years passed. The children grew up and left the village. But the tree never forgot. Every sunrise, it gently pushed those wishes into new fruit—each one carrying the color and shape of the dream it held.
Now, when the first light spills over the horizon and paints the sky in fire and rose, the tree stands alone, surrounded by small blooming gardens that sprouted from forgotten seeds. Travelers passing by stop, amazed.
They see mangoes, guavas, starfruit… and fruits that glow faintly, almost like they’re smiling.
An old woman (once Ayesha) returned one dawn. She touched the blue ribbon still fluttering after twenty years and laughed through tears.
“You kept them safe,” she whispered.
The tree said nothing.
It only dropped one perfect, sea-blue mango into her hand.
And in that moment, the sunrise felt like it was shining just for her.
Moral (just for fun): Some wishes don’t need to be loud. They just need a tree patient enough to grow them.
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The Tree That Remembered Wishes
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