My Special Tree

I forced myself to wake up to my annoying alarm. Once I was aware of what day it was, I grabbed my phone and checked the time. 6:21 A.M. Good. 

Instantly, I got up and changed into shorts and my special tee shirt. Once I grabbed my shoes, journal, and pen, I headed out the door. 

Our special tree was about a half mile from the house. We would always go there when I was younger, so that’s where I went now. 

I was grateful that I woke up at 6:21. If I was a minute early or a minute late, it would mess up everything. Every Tuesday for the last three years I have gone to my special tree. It’s become a necessity for me. I remember one time I woke up late, and by the time I made it to my tree, it wasn’t the same. Either too many people or the sun was too bright or something bad would happen during the day.

It didn’t matter how cold, wet, or hot it was, I always went. The walk never bothered me. In fact, it was therapeutic. But today, the air was the perfect temperature. Not too hot nor too cold. Just right.

As I made my way to the park, I found my tree. My angel oak tree with its long branches that spread out in every direction. I used to climb this tree all the time when I was little. I remember one time I climbed all the way to the top without any help. The view was magnificent. He was so proud of me that day. 

I sat down with my back against the large trunk and breathed in the fresh air. The park was beautiful. I faced the direction of the fields that seemed to go miles and miles. The wind blew the grass, making it look as though it were dancing.

Grabbing my notebook, I sat down and wrote my letter, telling him all about what has happened since I last wrote to him. I poured out my feelings of joy and sadness, reminded him of how much he is missed, and told him about the family and how they’ve been. 

When I first started writing to him, I cried. With every word I wrote, my heart would pang. But the more I did it, the easier it became. It started to feel as though he could actually read my letters. I could see his smile, hear his laugh, and feel his love.

Once I finished, I read what I wrote. 

Dear John,

You hate it when I call you that, don’t you? Well you always told me when writing letters, I had to be formal. Remember when I wrote one to grandpa and I couldn’t say “Dear Grandpa Willy”? You told me I had to say, “Dear William” and be all proper-like. Well, here’s me being your definition of "proper-like". 

This week was long. School was hard, but I pushed through. I hate physics. Mom said you hated it too, but I did make an A on my Calculus test! I was really surprised. 

You remember Andy? My best friend? Well, she moved away last Friday. I cried. She said we’d keep in touch, but I’m not sure how that’s gonna work out. 

Mama’s doing good, don’t you worry. She made another sale with work, so she’s getting a raise. We’re doing fine financially and I have to look into getting me a job soon. I have no clue where I'm gonna work, but I'll figure it out.

I miss you a lot. I really do. I hope that you’re doing fine. I’m sure ya are. Make sure to say hi to Grandpa Willy for me. I miss him too, but I’m sure y’all have been doing a lot of good fishin’ up there. 

Alright, I love you so much, Dad. 

Love,

Ellie.

I was never good at writing letters, but they were always special. 

Flipping to the next page, I wrote what I loved about myself. 

When dad died, I felt as though my imperfections were more visible to everyone. I felt vulnerable and weak. It was as though I were a kite and my dad was the string. Once the string’s gone, what’s the use of the kite? It lost all control of itself. 

Now, I wrote about all the things I loved about who I am today. As always, I wrote that I loved my blueish-gray eyes, and my smile which my dad and I shared. I loved my hair because it was the same fiery red as my moms. Then, I moved away from my looks and focused on my personality. I scribbled on the page that I loved how I made bad jokes, yet made people laugh, how strong and smart I was, as well as the fact that I could do anything I put my mind to.

The words filled the page and I flipped to the next to write out my dreams. 

I wanted to travel the world. Dad always told me how much he loved Greece when he got to go, so that’s a must and Ireland is where my moms family is from, so I had to go there. Maybe we could go together; a mother and daughter trip. My dad would have loved that.

Then I went into some more things like how I wanted my own farm with acres and acres of land. I also wanted an angel oak tree planted just like this one. Then I dreamed that I went to Clemson University and got a degree in Forestry. 

I wanted to live my life with no regrets. That was my biggest dream of all. 

With all that done, I closed my notebook and got out my phone. My dads favorite song was “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” by Poison, so I hit play.

My eyes were closed and as listened to the song, memories started coming back to me. Us at this tree or singing songs in the car. That day we went to the zoo and I was still small enough to sit on top of his shoulders. He made me feel so special. So loved. I was daddy’s little girl.

The song ended and I felt a couple tears fall down my face. Good tears, I thought to myself. 

I checked my phone to see that it was 7:10 and that I should be heading back home to get ready. But I had one more task. 

Putting my phone in my pocket, I started climbing the branches of the tree. It was a little more difficult than I remembered, but I forced my way to the top. 

And the view.

It was gorgeous. The sun showered a golden glow on the fields around me. It stretched farther than the eye could see. The breeze blew my hair back, but felt fresh against my cheeks. The sky was colorful with different shades of pink, orange, red, and yellow all blended together. 

“Dad’s up in that sky,” I said to myself. 

I waved my hand to the sky and a minute later, a gust of wind blew back at me. 

“He knows,” I whispered to the wind. 

Climbing down, I felt satisfied. I gathered my things and walked away from the tree though a part of me will always be with it no matter what.