"When you are quite a girl grown, and the tree is more than this little sapling, we will carve your initials into the bark. As you grow up into a woman you can watch your name widen and change as they tree grows bigger around it. Won't that be nice?"
I didn't like the sound of becoming a woman. But I looked as his paw clasping my plump little hand, both ingrained with the black mud of the field and said, "Yes, Dad." Surely, I could cope with being a woman as long as he was beside me.
After six years, I got a penknife for my birthday. It felt drawn to it's danger as if it might make me run mad, a danger which frightened me into being tentative with it as I teased out the different tools, all offering a cold mystery.
We took the penknife to the tree and with his massive hand steadying mine we etched into its still supple flesh my monogramme. And then we watched it grow.
I was right to be frigtened of womanhood but I was also right that with my father standing always beside me anything was bearable.
Time up.
Inspiration today came from the Tumblr blog Writer's Inspiration and the task simply said: what is the significance of this tree. Open for lots of scope there.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I would really welcome constructive comments or perhaps even some inspiration. To be honest , I would settle for some encouragement.