Grandfather knelt in the dirt, carefully packing soil around the base of a very small, frail-looking olive sapling.
Steve and Kynthos watched him work, wondering why he was taking so much care with such a tiny plant.
"When will we get to eat the olives?" Steve asked.
Grandfather patted the dirt one last time and smiled.
"Perhaps when you are a grown man," he answered.
Kynthos frowned, placing his hands on his hips.
"Why work so hard in the dirt today if we have to wait years for the reward?"
Grandfather brought them to a large olive tree and pointed up at it.
His finger traced the sprawling, massive branches of the ancient olive tree that shaded their home.
"This tree," Grandfather explained softly, "was planted by someone long before I was born."
"They knew they might never eat its fruit, but they planted it for us."
Steve and Kynthos squatted beside the tiny sapling.
Together, they helped pat the warm dirt around its roots.
They understood that sometimes the best things we do are for the future, not just for today.
