Family Tree by: Sarah

Wind whipping over the remaining branches, twirling them in a complex dance.
Sweeping emptily over the stump where the older tree had stood.
Don’t cut it Mama had said, the little one will weep.
Daddy’s laugh as he told her not to spread that nonsense onto his girl.
Cut it down, flinging wood shavings like tears.
And the little one was silent.
Its happy her daddy had told her, it gets all the sun now.
Mama said nothing, stared out at the yard like it was her heart that he had chopped up.
Her heart he was burning in the hearth.
The little girl just stared.
Willing herself to believe him.
Trusting that the little tree was sharing a private waltz with the wind.
Not missing the proud branches that had been replaced with a roughly hewn stump.
Baby-sitter smacking gum, telling her to stay still in the kitchen, just draw.
Twirls the phone cord like it’ll get her somewhere in life.
Solemn little eyes watching the tree’s gusty ballet with the breeze.
Clouds stop their idle drifting to form a thick blanket over the sun.
The sun the tree was supposed to be getting more of now.
Phone rings, baby-sitter yells, head in the fridge.
Young hands grasp it, listening to the stormy words.
Car accident.
Fatal.
So sorry.
Can I speak to an adult?
Numbly hands the phone to the older girl, letting go of her parents as she lets go of the heavy black receiver.
And outside she sees the truth.
Little tree, withering in agony as the wind rips its tender buds, shreds its slender branches.
No older tree to protect it from the cruel wind or the gathering storm.
The lightning strikes a brilliant white strand across the sky,
The little one weeps..