That Time I Was Oddly Attached To A Tree

4 02 2013

There was this tradition at my school that when you were in second grade, you were given a tree. I’m really not sure what the purpose of this was or why they decided that seven was the age at which we were to be presented with trees. But anyway, it was this BIG deal and we even had this list of all the types of trees we could get. We got to pick one and then we took it home and planted it and watered it and then we’d have an AWESOME tree in our yard that WE PLANTED.

I was really excited at the prospect of having my very own tree in my yard. I pored over the “tree catalog.”. I made my parents tell me about each different tree. I checked out books from the library. Finally, I settled on a red maple. It was going to be awesome. In the fall I’d have great leaves and helicopter seeds to play with, and in the summer I could sit and read in the shade of my tree.

I was so grateful for my tree that I sent the company that gave it to me a thank you card, on which I had drawn a picture of myself reading under the tree.

The day came when I got my tree. My mom picked me up from school in the van and I could not wait for my dad to get home from work so we could plant my tree. I spent the whole afternoon walking around the yard trying to pick the absolute best spot for it. We planted the tree and I was very happy. I was afraid that deer would eat it, so we built a fence around it with some chicken wire. Still, every evening I’d sit in the window and watch my tree to make sure no animals ate it.

The most pathetic part of this story is what happened next. For whatever reason, I loved this tree SO MUCH that when we moved two years later, I made my parents dig up the tree and bring it to our new house. The new people moving into our house must have thought we were insane.

This probably goes without saying, but my tree didn’t survive the move. But still. Even after it died, I would not let my dad get rid of it. We wound up putting it in the fort in our back yard. Sometimes I would sit in the fort and read with it. I honestly have NO idea why I was so attached to this tree. Wanna know the funniest part?

It’s still there.

Yes. The tree that I planted when I was seven and then killed when I was nine and made it move houses with me is still sitting in the fort in my backyard. It’s been there for twelve years.

To be honest, I’d probably still be a little upset if we got rid of it. Luckily, the fort is ten feet high and it’s unstable, so no one can climb it. My little tree is staying in my backyard FOREVER. Just like I’d always imagined.