Writing Prompt: A Tree in Time
This prompt is brought to us by C. M. Mayo’s Daily 5, October 20th. And by the letter Q and the number 7.
A Tree in Time
Outside my kitchen window grows a corkscrew willow tree. The willow tree and I were the same height when we brought it home five years ago. The sapling was growing in a black five-gallon bucket and fit inside our van. On the ride home from the nursery, the three Sonars in their car seats had to dodge the twisty green leaves that wagged around on bumps and turns, threatening to tickle ears and noses.
We have a tree-climbing rule in our house: no putting your full weight on a branch narrower than your own wrist. Call it a rule of wrist. It protects the trees and the kids.
The first couple of years, no branch of the willow tree satisfied the rule. Now, all of the lowest branches are fair game. The supple, willowy branches all reach up over the top of the house. The Sonars can shimmy up at least ten feet, crowing as they look over each other’s heads, spying the neighbor’s yard, shouting in imaginary conquest. The green, waxy leaves of the willow twist around their faces in a whispering curtain.
The corkscrew branches reach out and up and down, threatening to tickle noses, grasping for a final caress before the kids are out of reach.
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