Mini Essay - On ... - Rome

In the middle of the Gianicolo Residence is a plum tree. Its roots interrupt the tiles laid onto the ground, like an octopus breaking out of the ocean, and its branches reach two stories high. The tree is alone, but it is happily growing, producing purple plums. Leaning casually against the tree is a makeshift pole with a net attached for students to pick the plums.

When my friends and I would come back to Gianicolo, after a night of drinking and eating and laughing, we would take turns catching plums. The Italian resident assistants would saunter out of their rooms to yell at us for being too loud, but we just couldn't help ourselves. It was our nightly tradition, and how could you not laugh watching Dre and Emily drunkenly stab the pole into the tree?

The plums were the perfect drunk-snack. They had a thin skin that broke easily against my teeth. The insides coated our mouths in juice. We joked that they would prevent hangovers because they were so hydrating. While we ate, we would sit on the patio and talk about the adventures we had that week. Boat cruises in Croatia. Food tours of Florence. Trips to the Vatican. Karaoke bars.

On our last night in Rome, we came back to find the plum tree bare of any plums. 

We practically organized a protest right then and there. How could we continue our plum tradition without the plums? We were upset because of course, that night of all nights, the plums were gone. We had been looking forward to it all night ... and then we started laughing, because of course, that night of all nights, the plums were gone. We spent the night sitting in a circle and talking about our favorite memories over the past five weeks.

Thinking back to this memory, I see that the plum tree was our own Pantheon, our own Trevi Fountain. We created our own history in a historical city. Our bond would stand strong, like the Roman foundations, because it's impossible to unwrite a story once the ink has already stained the paper.

The plums were gone, and I'd probably never taste one again.

But they were damn good plums.