When I was growing up, there was a special girl in my village who I liked from the first moment I saw her. Her name was Fatima.

She was kind to everyone and had a lovely smile.

Whenever I saw her, my heart fluttered.

I had one problem though. I was afraid to tell her or her family how I felt. I was poorer than her, and I only had  one leg because of an accident. I used an artificial leg called a prosthesis and sometimes used crutches.

Unfortunately, the richer people in our village sometimes looked down on the poorer people. Also, many people in our village looked down on people with disabilities. Of course, these people didn’t understand our religion very

well.

Since Fatima’s parents were richer than my family and were known to look down on other people, I was afraid that her family would not want her to be with me.

Fatima was friendly though. We used to say hello to each other and talk a little, but I never mentioned my feelings for her.

After we got older, whenever I saw her, my heart would beat faster and I would become very nervous. My greatest fear in telling her my feelings was that she would reject me. Then, all of my chances with her would be gone forever.

Although she sometimes seemed to liked me too, she never said so. I always wondered.

“Perhaps I’m just imagining that she might like me,” I told myself.

As we got older, I was also worried because some other boys seemed

interested in her too.

One day when I was coming home from visiting a friend, I even saw her riding on a scooter with Deebo, one of the richest boys in our village.

It had rained earlier, and when they passed me, they splashed mud all over me. I think Deebo did it on purpose, but I can’t be sure.

I often had terrible nightmares about her

marrying someone else, especially Deebo.

It was like torture. I loved her but couldn’t talk to her. At the same time, I

couldn’t forget her so that my heart could rest. I would often lie in a field

and daydream about her.

I started to  try to “accidentally” run into her. I thought that if I did so, I might one day see her away from other people and get up the courage to tell her how I felt.

However, whenever I would see her alone, I would get nervous at the last moment and hide behind a tree, a building or a wall.

I began to hate this feeling of fear and wondered how I would ever be able to talk to her. Still, I just couldn’t forget her and felt compelled to return again and again.

I practiced potential conversations with her in my mind and with a tree in case I ever got the nerve to talk to her.

“You must know that I have always loved you,” I would say. “I hope you feel the same way about me.” I only wished that I could know what her answer would be without really asking her.

This continued for many years. As we grew older, I continued to love her and dream that we might one day be married. I spent many hours walking near her house hoping to see her. I would also go to all of the places that I expected her to be, hoping, and fearing, that I would run into her and that she would fall in love with me.

I began to hate the way I acted.

“What a coward you are!” I told myself. “What are you afraid of? All she and her family can tell you is no!”

As much as I reasoned to myself that it really didn’t matter if I told her and she said no, I still could not tell her about my feelings.

Every week when school let out for the weekend, everyone else left the building, laughing and leaping with happiness to have two days off. I, on the other hand, walked away from school sadly. I didn’t look forward to the weekends because I knew that I would probably not see Fatima again until school was back in session.

The same thing was true about our summer break from school. Everyone else was happy, and I was miserable.

One day, I went to the movie theater and saw Fatima standing outside. I decided that I had to approach her and talk to her. I didn’t think about it. I just walked up to her and said, “Hi, Fatima. I need to talk to you.”

At that moment, Deebo walked up with two ice creams – one for him and one for Fatima. He was smiling at her and giving me a mean look. He was older and taller than me and was known to bully younger and smaller boys.

Yes, Ahmad,” she said. “What would you like to talk to me about?”

“Nothing,” I said, nervously, feeling uncomfortable and not wanting to talk to her with Deebo there.

Is he her boyfriend or fiance? I wondered.

“I’ll talk to you another time, Fatima.” I quickly walked away, as she said, “OK. Bye.”

As I walked away, I didn’t dare turn around because of my shame.

“You coward!“ I told myself. “What kind of fool are you? You waited too long, and now you’ve lost her for good. She likes Deebo.”

At the same time, I was angry with Fatima.

“Can’t you see that I love you, Fatima?” I said to myself as though I were talking to her. “I have loved you all of this time and have spent years trying to make you love me. But this rich guy, Deebo, comes with his flattery and scooter, and you fall for him immediately! How can you like a mean boy like Deebo?”

I blamed her, but, in truth, I knew that I was the only one to blame. If I had told her how I felt, anything might have happened. Now, I would never know.

I walked home sadly. I felt as if a giant shadow of sadness were following me.

The next day, I moped around our hut for most of the morning. My parents thought that I was sick.

“Is something wrong, Ahmad?” my mother asked. “You seem ill.”

“I’m fine,” I told her, with my head still down. “I’m going outside.”

I walked out to the woods to talk to my tree.

On the way, I heard someone talking in another part of the jungle. It sounded just like Fatima’s voice!

I walked quietly toward the area where the voice was coming from, and I hid behind a tree. I

then stuck my head out to see who it was.

It was Fatima, and she was talking to a tree that was dressed in boy’s clothes!

“Ahmad, my love! I love you, but I don’t know how to tell you,” she said to the tree. “When

will I ever find the courage to show you my true heart?”

At that moment, some twigs I was standing on snapped and made some noise. Fatima looked up and saw me watching her.

She immediately started to run away.

“Fatima, Fatima,” I yelled.

“Leave me alone, Ahmad!” she yelled back.

She seemed embarrassed and angry at me.

But a few seconds ago, she was saying that she loved me. I didn’t understand.

I didn’t know what to do.

I sat there in the jungle for hours. It would be dark soon, and I knew my parents would be angry if I stayed out too late, but I was too sad to go home. I couldn’t leave while Fatima was angry at me.

Then, I heard someone coming through the jungle, so I hid behind a large tree.

The person stopped at the tree. “Ahmad,” she said to the tree. “I’m so embarrassed that you saw me. Now you know that I love you, but I am now even more ashamed to face you. I think I will just die of shame if I see you again.”

That’s when I stepped from behind the tree and spoke.

“Fatima, don’t be embarrassed. Please let me show you something.”

Still embarrassed, she came with me as I led her through the jungle to my tree.

“Look, you have an Ahmad tree that you talk to,” I told Fatima. “Guess what? I also have a Fatima tree that I talk to. Listen to what I usually say.”

Then, I spoke to the tree.

“Fatima, I love you so much, but I don’t know how to tell you my feelings. I’ve loved you since I first met you.”

She turned around, and she was smiling that Fatima smile that I loved so much.

As Fatima and I got to know each other better in the following weeks, I learned a lot about her. It turned out that Fatima had never been interested in Deebo. He liked her, but she didn’t like him because he was arrogant and was a bully to smaller kids.

The day I saw her riding with Deebo on his scooter, she had hurt her foot far from her house. When she sent her brother home to tell her father, he sent Deebo to pick her up and bring her home on his scooter.

Her father liked Deebo because he was rich. He also sent Deebo to the movie theater that night to see Fatima. Though she tried to avoid him, Deebo followed her around and bothered her the whole night.

After I found out that Fatima liked me too, I told my parents. They then approached

Fatima’s family, as was our custom, and told them of my interest in their daughter.

At first, they were not happy that she loved someone who was poorer than them and who had a disability. Finally, however, they began to accept our love, and Fatima’s father even bought me a new prosthesis that was actually made by a real company!

Several years later, Fatima and I married and had several children. Her parents came to love me too.

Although Fatima and I are older now and have grandchildren of our own, we still remember our trees often and laugh about how we practiced talking to them.

I had a dream a few days ago of me and Fatima standing in the jungle outside our village. In the dream, our two trees had grown together as one, like Fatima’s heart and mine. The trees’ red blossoms only grew on the branches that faced each other and the moon shone in a way that the trees could be seen from miles away and looked like a giant heart in the sky.

When I woke up, I told Fatima about it. She called it “The Love Tree.”

And she was right.

It was indeed our love tree – a beautiful symbol of our long-lasting love.