Memory.
And the simple promise that something good could still grow after loss.
Then Ryan moved into the house next door.
At first, he seemed friendly.
He introduced himself, helped carry a few boxes, and told me he was happy to have such a peaceful neighborhood.
But a few weeks later, he knocked on my door.
“Those branches are crossing into my yard.”
I apologized and offered to trim them.
“And the apples keep falling on my property.”
“I’ll clean them up,” I promised.
I thought that would be the end of it.
It wasn’t.
Ryan wanted the tree gone.
Completely.
I explained why I couldn’t simply remove it.
He didn’t care.
So I hired professionals to cut back the branches that crossed the fence.
They did an excellent job.
I cleaned the fallen apples.
I made sure nothing was left in his yard.
For a while, everything seemed peaceful.
Until one morning…
I opened my back door and froze.
Apples were scattered across the grass.
Several branches had been badly damaged.
Some had been snapped almost in half.
I immediately thought about the previous night’s weather.
But then I remembered something.
There hadn’t been any wind.
The night had been completely still.
I walked over to the tree.
Someone had done this.
And suddenly, I remembered my security camera.
I hurried inside.
I opened the footage.
Then I saw something that made my stomach drop.
Someone had entered my backyard during the night.
And when I zoomed in…
I recognized him.
It was Ryan.
I didn’t confront him.
I took the footage to the authorities instead.
This time, I had proof.
