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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1048139
by Sumojo Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #2186156
The simplicity of my day to day.
#1048139 added April 18, 2023 at 7:55pm
Restrictions: None
Nature’s swing.
FORUM
Personify Writing Contest-OPEN Open in new Window. (E)
A contest that gives life to inanimate things.
#2268646 by GERVIC Author IconMail Icon


Words 402

I’m feeling a little tired today. Soon it will be time to take a rest during the long winter months. Already I’m letting go a little. My leaves are beginning to loosen their grip, their green colour turning gold, red and brown..
The place where I first put down my roots from a tiny acorn, has changed since I was a mere stripling. A family built a big house next to me allowing me to reach my full potential. Some of my friends, especially Hackberry, were removed and I held my breath waiting for the jagged, sharp edges of the chainsaw to slice into my trunk, but I was safe. At least for a while.
The lady of the house actually saved my life on more than one occasion. When her husband, Mike, wanted to build a big shed I heard him say, “That tree needs to go!” But Sally loved to sit under the shade of my canopy and read her book and she told him, “You’ll have to find another place to build your shed.”
That was before the children arrived. A swing was attached to my branches and their laughter rang out over the neighbourhood. As they swung high on my strong limbs, I braced myself to keep them safe. I was more than a simple swing, I was a hiding place for when the children were avoiding the parental gaze. There was no need of metal swings and climbing frames whilst the children had me.
I’m sure in a few weeks when all my leaves have dropped, Mike will complain about the mess as he does each year. He hates anything spoiling his pristine green grass and will be out here with the rake, gathering my leaves into a pile and setting fire to them. The kids love my dead leaves though, they play fight, kicking and throwing them at each other.
The little girl, Sophie, sees my dead leaves as beautiful. She looks for the ones with the reddest colours and makes collages for her teacher.
I don’t suppose the family know I understand everything they say, they think I’m just an old white oak tree, but I will still be here long after they have left this earth. I heard I could live for up to 300 years. There’ll be many more children swinging on my strong branches in this garden. That is if they let me survive that long.

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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1048139