The woodpecker's wail

Afshin worked tirelessly with the saw, and yellow sawdust cascaded down on both sides of him. Sweat drenched his body, but he refused to let go of the tool. "I have to finish this," he whispered to himself. The elderly man in his bed arose suddenly, raising his head slightly from the pillow and focusing his gaze on the trembling tree. He had been stuttering for years, and his legs quaked. This left his son unable to hear the old man's hushed whispers as he toiled with all his might on the saw.

The saw's vicious teeth relentlessly ripped the wood apart, tearing the old man's heart in two. The apricot tree was the largest in the garden. It was planted during the old man's first year of marriage and surrounded by the mulberries, peas, and peaches he'd later added. His children grew up alongside the seedlings, eventually marrying and moving to their own homes. Only the younger son, following tradition, stayed with his father.