"The Tree's Child" By Randi Turner

I am an oak tree. I have been in this yard and protecting this family for

many, many generations. The youngest of the current generation under my care is a

girl, Emmy, who has the biggest heart. She is not like her nasty mother, Judy, at

all. Judy, despite her small stature, was an evil thing. Great harm was left in areas

she'd been in, and I had to sacrifice more branches than I care to admit to

prevent her from harming small animals. Still, I let her swing upon my branches

nearly every day.

         One day, when Judy was swinging on the edge of a branch, she intentionally

jumped and landed on a bird's nest to kill the eggs contained within. Consumed with

rage, I dropped the branch she was using for balance. She fell and did not wake up

until her father came to get her. I sacrificed all my bottom branches so that child,

Judy, could never use me for harm again, though I know she just used other things

to cause harm.

         Her daughter, Emmy, is so different. When Emmy was but a babe, my lush

branches shielded her from the harsh sun, my trunk provided her with a never

wavering support, and my apples provided her with nutrients to have the strength

that was needed. No longer a babe, Emmy began to climb upon me to see the world,

never daring to harm an animal. She was particularly careful to avoid even

disturbing spider webs. Of course, I caught her when her shoes, worn down from

use, had failed to properly grip my stump. When Emmy was old enough to find a

mate, I was there as she pushed her on the swing tied upon my strongest branch,

and when that mate left to find another, I was there to catch her tears.

         That day, when Emmy could no longer stand the yelling in her house, she

climbed upon me once more, rope in hand. That day, ‘twas I who broke my own

branch so that I may hurt instead of her. I caught her tears once more as my

stump supported her and my leaves hid her from the world. How I had wished to be

more than just a stoic tree that day, how I had wished to have the arms that

should’ve provided love instead of the hatred she’d received.

         It was around this time, when Emmy was a teen, that she approached me

with an axe. “Why won’t you change?!” Emmy cried out, swinging the axe into my

trunk. “If you cannot change after all these years, then how could I ever possibly change?” She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I have to cut you down to cut down myself!” She swung once more, but missed. Collapsing to the ground, my

wounded trunk provided her with a place to cry once more.

When Emmy was no longer a babe nor teen, she left. I watched from afar,

craving to protect that child once more, but she was no longer there. Not the

Emmy I knew, anyway. This new Emmy was angry at the world and wanted nothing

more to do with this sunny patch of grass. She no longer yearned to climb upon me,

to explore the farmhouse, not so far away, nor did she yearn for her parents’

approval anymore. This Emmy was an adult, but not yet fully grown.

         Many more years passed after that. I’m not sure how many. The only thing I

was sure of during that time was that the grass was no longer as green as it used

to be and that the sun was no longer as warm and bright as it once was. The

dreariness only continued as a storm began to rage over the farm. I remember

seeing the old farmhouse catching fire after a particularly rough bolt of lightning.

I watched as the barn cats and the dog ran out from the house, and into my shade,

my protection. These were Emmy’s precious animals, after all.

         I will never doubt my next decision, though I faced many consequences

because of it. As the storm reared up to send out its next powerful bolt, I stood

strong, straightened my trunk, and held on as I shielded Emmy’s darling pets. I felt

myself burning in that moment. It was then that I understood that my eyes would

never gaze upon Emmy again, my branches would never provide cover, and my trunk

would never support her again.

         No, ‘twas too late for regrets now. I was already burning, my leaves

shriveling up as the fire burned deep into my branches. I was sure the fire had

travelled to my trunk by now, but I could feel it no longer. I understood, now, that

my trunk was split and that I would not make it through this storm the same, if at

all.

         It was in this darkest moment that my fate changed.

         The storm began to calm its rage and instead, focused upon letting out the

rain, no more lightning. The storm gradually put out the fires set by its own hand

and I, ever in pain, continued to live, though barely. My soul often shifted in andout of my vessel after this, though I cannot remember much around this time, for

I fell into a deep slumber.

         When I next awoke, I saw Emmy. She stood there once more, yelling at her

parents, her face a mess. Beside her stood another woman, holding a new babe.

Though I could not see them, I knew the parents had once more failed to love

Emmy. They failed to love their child in many ways, that eventually compounded

into a new car arriving. This car had many blue and red flashing lights and made a

loud, eerie noise.

         Gazing upon Emmy once more, I saw fear, I saw devastation, and worst of all,

I saw the injured heart that had, once again, given up hope. This car was a danger

to Emmy, though I did not understand why. In these last fleeting moments of my

life, I was given the chance to protect her once more.

         At the cost of what little life I had left, I let myself split. As the halves of

my trunk fell, I landed on the dangerous car. As I drew my last breaths, I saw

Emmy grab the woman’s hand and run away. Emmy was safe and loved now; what

more could I ever ask for? I questioned myself as the feeling of emptiness swelled

within me.

         Then I saw it. This moment was the granting of peace from the universe. It

was only an instant, just a few seconds, but Emmy looked back at me. Her eyes, a

mixture of fear and sorrow, briefly met my own, though I doubt she knew it. It was

at this moment that I knew. I knew Emmy had cared for me as I saw the grief and

thankfulness overpower the fear and sorrow, just once. As I laid there, continuing

to stop the men’s progression, I felt at peace. The Emmy I knew was once unloved

and unsure.

         The Emmy I knew could be rage filled with a need to destroy. But this Emmy,

the one I did not know, was now loved and safe. This Emmy truly had a “family” and

my duty as her protector was over. My life faded with happy lights flowing out of

my trunk and my soul became one with the Earth once more.