Young Adult Story
1 min
goodbye tree day
Sophia Luo
They're tearing the magnolia tree down today. I've marked it on my calendar in black ink: "goodbye tree day". I wrote it down on my calendar like I write everything: birthdays, holidays, tests.
I've loved that tree ever since I was 5. I planted it myself (with some help from my mother), tender baby hands placing roots in earth. We planted it a few feet away from our house, ensuring that if it grew too big, it wouldn't damage our home. For months, we watered the little sapling, watching it grow, sprouting leaves and branches. Placing a hand on the trunk, I absentmindedly outline the carving in the tree: S + M, childish promises made into forever.
I met my best friend because of that tree. It was a cool Saturday; autumn turning the air biting and the sky a murky gray. I was climbing up the branches, tapping each branch before moving to make sure they could hold my weight.
"You don't need to do that! Just climb on up; if you fall, you fall. You're only five feet up," yelled a little voice below me. My hold on the tree slipped at the surprise of his voice — no other children lived on this street —and I fell the five feet down, landing on my butt and back. I turned to glare at the intruding voice and found a wincing, concerned face peering at me.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, no thanks to you," I responded.
He offered me his hand, worn calluses engraved in his palm and I accepted, taking a good look at his face as I rose
"Hey, you look familiar," I mused.
"Sorry, never seen you around," he replied.
Standing there, I decided to ask him a question:
"Do you have a best friend?"
"No," he said.
"Will you be mine?" I questioned.
We stood there for a long time, him and I. Our shadows reflected on the tree, a handshake to solidify our newfound friendship. Whispers of future memories and adventures echo in our ears. The start of something great.
Today, I stand alone. My lone figure staring at a magnificent tree, the air biting, and the sky a slate gray. A replica of the day I first met him. Promises engraved in our tree meant to last forever, carving a space in my heart now fading. Funny how we've changed.
The end of an era.
I've loved that tree ever since I was 5. I planted it myself (with some help from my mother), tender baby hands placing roots in earth. We planted it a few feet away from our house, ensuring that if it grew too big, it wouldn't damage our home. For months, we watered the little sapling, watching it grow, sprouting leaves and branches. Placing a hand on the trunk, I absentmindedly outline the carving in the tree: S + M, childish promises made into forever.
I met my best friend because of that tree. It was a cool Saturday; autumn turning the air biting and the sky a murky gray. I was climbing up the branches, tapping each branch before moving to make sure they could hold my weight.
"You don't need to do that! Just climb on up; if you fall, you fall. You're only five feet up," yelled a little voice below me. My hold on the tree slipped at the surprise of his voice — no other children lived on this street —and I fell the five feet down, landing on my butt and back. I turned to glare at the intruding voice and found a wincing, concerned face peering at me.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, no thanks to you," I responded.
He offered me his hand, worn calluses engraved in his palm and I accepted, taking a good look at his face as I rose
"Hey, you look familiar," I mused.
"Sorry, never seen you around," he replied.
Standing there, I decided to ask him a question:
"Do you have a best friend?"
"No," he said.
"Will you be mine?" I questioned.
We stood there for a long time, him and I. Our shadows reflected on the tree, a handshake to solidify our newfound friendship. Whispers of future memories and adventures echo in our ears. The start of something great.
Today, I stand alone. My lone figure staring at a magnificent tree, the air biting, and the sky a slate gray. A replica of the day I first met him. Promises engraved in our tree meant to last forever, carving a space in my heart now fading. Funny how we've changed.
The end of an era.
This was an entry for a writing contest held in conjunction with Center for Fiction and The Decameron Project
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