What I Noticed at Five

The year I was five was the last year we spent in the first house I lived in. My parents were in the midst of a divorce, and my mom planned to return to her hometown and her parents for some temporary support. I have very few memories of that house – less even than my brother who is two years younger. But what I remember was the back yard.


Maybe my memory held on to the back yard because it is featured in so many of our pictures from that time period: my brother and I in the tractor-tire sandbox, playing in the sprinklers in the grass, the dogs and cats sunning themselves on the bricks. The most prominent feature was the raised bed in the far back that featured two mature orange trees, a lemon tree, and an avocado tree.

Me at 5 in front of the orange trees - maybe first day of kindergarten?

The orange trees were the backdrop for many family photos. Visiting grandparents, aunts, and uncles all posed in front of those trees holding my brother and me. Their lush green leaves and sweet orange blossoms never failed to beautify the background. I remember the enormity of the trees (at least to a five-year-old) and collecting the oranges that dropped and rolled down the slope to the retaining wall.


The lemon and avocado trees had a different story. Neither is in many photos, as they were still scrawny saplings when we moved from that house. I remember them for a different reason. Each marked the resting place of a family pet lost in that 5 year span that we spent there. I remember little about the dog and cat, Sophie and Dozey, but I remember the solemn feeling of their passing, and it is always with fondness that I think of the trees that grew in memory of them.