Its branches were firm and only the light leaves moved in the gentle breeze. With each swell of air the call became louder "Princessparkle, come and climb on my perfectly climbable branches". Unfortunately, I was hearing the call from the other side of the blinded windows in church on this Easter morning. I sat there, anchored to my spot on the red velvet cushion on the pew. I could barley see the choir anyway- the backs of children's tiny Easter bonnets and their mother's fancy up-dos were blocking my view. So I continued to stare longingly out the window. I had to squint to see through the layer of dead mosquito and pollen to see that beautiful tree.
I was planning the route: fist I'd jump to the lowest branch which could be a trunk by itself then I'd extend my right hand to the branch above and to the right simultaneously moving my leg up. It must be some weird childish instinct to want to climb things. Maybe the only reason I wanted to climb it so badly was I couldn't in my mostly white Easter outfit (which, by the way, is perfect for frolicking through flowery meadows or, for say, climbing a tree but I wasn’t allowed wearing it).
The tree just sat there squandering perfectly good hand and foot holds t
o just look good on the church lawn. I imagined myself in it, the wind brushing against my skirt as I sit triumphantly at the top. I would not be climbing on it; I’d be climbing in it- it was that big.
Who plants such a tempting tree just so it can bother children like me? I imagine they thought they were doing a good deed; planting a tree for a church, but who knew that it would grow to be the most beautiful, climbable tree to grace this good city? Maybe they even planned it; "Now children, this, this tree right here, you will never get the opportunity to climb.". The loud Alleluia chorus was muffed by the taunting calls the tree, amplified by the wind. A child cried over the chorus and I didn't even look to see how adorable it was; I was hypnotized.
I bet that magnolia is standing in that spot right now, lonely, and climberless. I can almost here it begging for a climber…
Its branches were firm and only the light leaves moved in the gentle breeze. With each swell of air the call became louder "Princessparkle, come and climb on my perfectly climbable branches". Unfortunately, I was hearing the call from the other side of the blinded windows in church on this Easter morning. I sat there, anchored to my spot on the red velvet cushion on the pew. I could barley see the choir anyway- the backs of children's tiny Easter bonnets and their mother's fancy up-dos were blocking my view. So I continued to stare longingly out the window. I had to squint to see through the layer of dead mosquito and pollen to see that beautiful tree.
o just look good on the church lawn. I imagined myself in it, the wind brushing against my skirt as I sit triumphantly at the top. I would not be climbing on it; I’d be climbing in it- it was that big.
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I was going to sit on my butt all day, but you just motivated me to go outside and enjoy at least some of the gorgeous day. :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks Lilu, I actually did sit on my butt all day and fantisied/wrote about the beautiful day..:)
ReplyDelete