A landmark, a beacon, the tree that stood in front of my grandmother’s house heralded the end of a long journey, each leg of which was eternity to my childhood mind. Mema’s bright and warm smile was second to greet my brother and me as we ran up to the door upon our arrival, peering at her through the storm glass as the main door opened, far too anxious to contain my need to get my little arms around her dainty frame.

It was a beautiful wide-branched tree with a name too unique to recall with certainty. But Mema chose this tree with specificity for its unique root system, that it would not shake the home’s foundation or wreck the driveway leading up to it.
In fall the tree would make us a few bucks or an ice cream sandwich reward by shedding its leaves in Mema’s yard. The enormous stack of leaves we could rake up was too enticing to my brother and me. We would shriek with a leap into the crunchy pillow, made soft only by the sheer number of paper thin foliage the tree shed to inevitably leave a wider mess than before.

The strength of the tree reminded me how strong nature is, that it can hold and support me. That I can run all the way up its branches, as far as I dare to take myself. And each year as I grew bigger, I could go a little further. Yet it was never too far to break beneath me.

I did get stuck one time. I forgot the way that brought me there and was in a place too far from the main trunk and so high I could not help but look down. I cried in panic at the idea of my permanent isolation and instantly imagined my untimely demise. Amidst the tears that blurred my youth’s green eyes, I made my way back down with a lot of kind coaching encouraging me from the ground. I remember from the incident only these words, “You’re really not so far away.”

And so I learned, this was the only way the tree could be dangerous, if I slip or forget my path and wander so far I’m out of reach. I know, though, that even in that case, I’ll still be able to hear my Mema calling to me from the ground and forever feel her warm smiling face reassuring my footing.

04/21/2016

Author's Note: Happy 95th birthday to my amazing Mema! <3

Posted on 04/21/2016
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