LE F OF A TREE Catherine Fitzgerald
B
lake ran up to the tree as fast as her little legs would go. This time would not come again for a whole year. No more scaredy-cat. No more running away after getting this far. It would be now. Today. Blake placed her foot into the crook of the first branch bending her elbow over the top of the one above. She lifted her body about six centimetres off the ground. Now, putting the last step in her long-term plan, she felt exhilarated.
Then, she fell off, her head smacked into the branch behind. That hurt. A lot. She rubbed her head. When the pain had subsided, she got up and brushed all the dirt off her jeans. She placed one palm on either cheek and wiped the dirt away. Mixing with her tears, the streaks formed little brown whiskers. Blake’s mind was made up. Now! Today!
With little hands clasping the soft leaf of the tree, she squeezed gently. It bounded, right back to the leaf shape. This leaf, this tree, was living and breathing, even though it looked so different, and did everything differently. It was a part of her with a spirit of its own. She needed this tree. Blake tiptoed to the large base of the tree and stretched her arms out as far as she could. She hugged the tree with all her might. Gently, respectfully, and quietly, she spoke to the spirit of the tree. ‘Miss Tree, Miss Tree, my name is Blake. There is something I need to do but, if you please, I need to climb up your branches to do it. I will be careful, I promise. I need your help. Please!’
As her face rested on the huge trunk, there was a feeling that came to her, and she stayed still. There, she listened and felt, and felt and listened. She knew that the tree had strong arms as much as she knew that her arms were not so strong. She knew if she was careful and only stood on the tree’s arms that could hold her, she would make it there and back without falling off. Blake placed her foot onto another branch, remembering to be calm. She climbed carefully; the tree’s arms seemed to welcome her weight. The smell of the bark and leaves were fresh and crisp, and the tree’s trunk was knobby and had many places for her feet to safely go. What Blake did not know was that a tree could have plans of its own. After climbing for what seemed like forever, she rested, again placing her head on the tree trunk. Then, something very strange seemed to happen. Light bent and the branches of the tree wrapped around behind her. The tiny little ones touched her back, like fingers, holding her so she would not fall. Even the sunlight seemed to bend but not in a way she could explain. In front of her, a large hole appeared in the tree trunk. In the hole was a smooth slide. After stepping into it, she slid down. Down and then around and around—even upside down. She felt dizzy at all the aroundness. Suddenly, the slide flattened out.
16
PLOP!
