There she was.
Way up in that huge tree.
Surrounded by boys. Nine boys.
And one girl.
Her brothers.
Her sister.
The tree had been planted by their father. Years ago.
Only when each of them was tall enough to grab the lowest branch could each kid begin to climb that huge tree.
If anyone was to look up into that extra tall tree they might think it was full of massive birds.
But it wasn't.
It was just full of kids having fun.
Calling out to each other on a hot summer day.
Daily that huge tree was climbed.
Mostly with all those boys and two girls together.
Sometimes in pairs.
Sometimes three or four.
And rarely alone.
One day those kids walked outside.
To climb again.
For the millionth time.
Only to discover the tree had fallen.
Down.
On its side.
Dead.
Those kids lined themselves up.
Sat on the tree's trunk.
As it lay there.
In the sand.
Their sandy backyard.
They just sat and listened to the sadness of the ocean waves as they seemed to scream.
"The tree! The huge tree has fallen!
Those nine boys and two girls just sat there.
Lost in their own memories.
Memories of that tree.
The tree that brought them so much joy.
Daily.
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(contribution for Write on Wednesdays - photo prompt: the stories a tree could tell) - original piece from www.facebook.com/story
