The Great Walnut Tree | Teen Ink

The Great Walnut Tree

December 10, 2014
By Zjea100 SILVER, Tacoma, Washington
Zjea100 SILVER, Tacoma, Washington
5 articles 0 photos 14 comments

Favorite Quote:
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?


I can still remember that great tree building a bridge between our two houses. The roots were in her soil but the tree stretched its limbs and arched over the man made fence, nature defying man, and spread as a blanket over our houses. Mitzi was my best friend from the second she moved in next door, friends forever with me and my sister Liberty. Loyal and true, Mitzi, Liberty and me, the girls underneath the great walnut tree.

 

We called this massive tree the pear-plum tree after the strange looking fruit it gave off each fall. Hanging down from the branches, green and round like lanterns in some fairy world. We later found out it was a walnut tree, yet in our minds, it still remained a mythical fruit, born of imagination and friendship. I can clearly remember one day, running outside and seeing and both of our dads, building something along the fence and tree. They were building a platform of sorts, made from long beams bridging the way across the dividing limbs and the top of the fence providing a resting point. This platform could be reached by two ways, one way from mine and Liberty's side by scaling a rusty, beaten ladder or from Mitzi's side by using the arm strength of a giant to pull yourself up a rope ladder swinging widely, and then launch yourself belly first onto the deck. I can still remember that gut feeling of the blow to my stomach; and then the adrenaline that followed it by finally reaching the platform. That was our place, sisters three, me, Liberty and Mitzi.


Pirates and runaways had adventures up there, casting away or hiding from the authorities. Two long limbs stretched upward to the skies on either side of the platform extending forever. Challenges were always exchanged to see who could get the highest and who could fall the farthest. Yet of all these games, playing house was by far the favorite. Diving into our characters; I always got the be the eldest sister bossing everyone around, and then rummaging through our musty, dusty, cobweb ridden basements and sheds to find long lost sheets and blankets. These pieces of cloth provided a home for our royal family, using sheer material of silver and emerald, sparkle cloth; and old sheets with holes in them worn to the thread. Usually an unusual smell accompanied them - cat pee or something of the sort. In the grass we would shake them out, heavy, draping sheets and light airy ones. Then, with clothespins stolen from a watchful parent's eye in hand, we tumbled off to the castle in the clouds.


It took many tries to get all these blankets up, seven or eight times we would scramble up the ladders just to get more material for our home, then with the help of the clothespins, knots tied between material and precariously placed rocks, we made a queendom on that ten by fifteen platform. A gypsy tent where we danced among the fairies. Sheepskins, pillows, and ice cream were brought from below and arranged until it looked like a proper hobbit dwelling; low hanging sheets as ceilings with the hot sun making an oven in which we cooked. Finally then, after all the preparation, the games could really begin. Dragon hunting was one of our favorites, running over the limbs of this great walnut tree to chase away these beasts.


One summer day in August, it was late in the afternoon and the lazy shadows of evening were creeping onto the tree. Mitzi, Liberty and I had just finished playing house, and were throwing heaps of blankets onto the ground. Liberty suggested that we bring our dinners out into the tree and so we each went into our houses and grabbed plates filled with summer squash, ripe, juicy tomatoes, rustic warm bread and rosemary chicken. It was a perfect meal on a perfect night, yet things were just beginning. After dinner, it started to grow dark, the sun dipping below the horizon and the stars begin to sharpen in the night. In our bare feet we crept over the branches of this mother tree, living like ninjas in the twilight. I had hopped over a branch and could see below it my and Liberty's shed. It was made of tin and aluminum, not very sturdy, but I decided to take a chance and so I gingerly rested the ball of my foot against the roof. It squeaked and held and I breathed a sigh of relief. I gently rested both feet on the roof and using both hands, clambered along it sideways like a monkey. By this time, Liberty and Mitzi had come over to see, and then watched me in apprehension. Now the back of my slick white roof conjoined with the dull black of my back door neighbor's roof, and Mitzi's tar roof for her shed was close to her back door neighbor's tan shed. This formed a crossway of four roofs, all belonging to different people yet all together as one. There was quite a gap between these roofs, and yet with the moonlight on me, I began hopping in between these roofs; Mitzi and Liberty joining me soon.


Our tiny feet padded across the roofs, leaving footprints in the dust and grime, reminders of the way we had come. It was certainly scary that night; jumping from roof to roof wary of any suspicions from adults, and eventually after this midnight expedition we climbed down to the mortal world and fell sleepily into bed with big yawns and wonder in our eyes. This soon became a nighttime ritual to share with friends, running quickly across the roofs so the listening ears of parents would not hear the aluminum creak and then dancing and frolicking in the moonlight, listening to a chorus of the stars. We were actresses on stage preforming a concert to no one but ourselves and the moon. These were the moments we were the brightest stars in the night, dangerous and wild, having a blast; and celebrating life and love.


These are the moments I most cherish, the times I look back on my life and sigh saying "Wow, those were some joyful times". Joy is so special, its not about being happy or good. You don't have any obligations, it just is, and it exists in every moment, however, sometimes you just think to yourself in that moment, "I feel joy!"and you do because that's what life is all about - finding those small joyful moments. When I think back to the castle in the clouds, made up with old sheets, and stained fingers from tree bark, when I think about the confidence and the utter joy I felt running across rooftops; I know that these moments come and go, and soon enough I will have more memories that will make me say, "I feel joy."


The author's comments:

I just moved to a new city, and this is a short piece about my fondest memories from my old city.


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