The Tree and Me
I sink into the mossy coolness underneath the large willow tree. The shade the tree provides is a stark contrast to the summer heat just a few feet away. It’s noon and I’m on my lunch break. Works been crazy. But here, just around the block from my office, I found this tree about a week ago. It’s off the sidewalk just on the edge of a gentle slope leading down to a creek below. It seemed so out of place. A little oasis amidst the noise and haste of the city. I’ve come here for lunch every day since. I leave my desk, nod to my co-worker and head out the door. We used to eat lunch together quite often she and I. I’m sure she thinks I’m mad at her for some reason, or am having an affair, which I suppose I am in a way. I’m just not ready to share. This is our time: the tree’s and mine. I lie in the shade enveloped in its coolness. The branches gentle sway fan and smooth me. The sound from the brook trickles up to my ears and drowns out the roar of the city around me. We stay like this the tree and me, suspended in time and space, until it’s time for me to go. Reluctantly returning to earth, I open my eyes, gather my thoughts and then just as I’m leaving, I lay my hand on the trunk of the tree, feeling the cool roughness of its bark on my palm. I say a silent thank you, then walk back into the world.
Copyright © Cheryl Murray | Year Posted 2024
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