Thursday, October 4, 2012

31 days of stories - day 4

Day 4: The Story of the Brick in the Tree.
(not the actual tree)
 
I grew up next to a cornfield.
 
Like, right next to.
 
It was awesome.

Clear across the cornfield was a tree.
 
Once every summer or fall my mother and I would walk to that tree.
 
One year, when I was maybe, 8, we took our usual trek to the tree.
 
Once there, we were scouting around and mom found a brick.
 
She put it in the V of the tree.
 
She told me it was our secret, and that brick held all her love for me.
 
The years passed and every year we would go and check on that brick.
 
*************************************************************
 
After she died, I would pull in the driveway and look across the field to the tree.
 
And smile.
 
Cause I knew what was in that tree and what is symbolized.
 
**************************************************************
 
When Ellie was 4, I noticed that the tree was dying.
 
We walked the tree and I showed her the brick.
 
And I explained to her what it meant and we talked about mom some.
 
You could barely see it, as the tree had grown around it.
 
But it was there.
 
************************************************************
 
Last year, on a trip home, I noticed that the tree was gone.
 
I was heartbroken.
 
It somehow seemed that my mother was no longer there in some small way.
 
It was just another way that I had lost her.
 
Just like letting the last of her clothes go.
 
And forgetting what her hands looked like.
 
Or what she smelled like.
 
(I can remember, if I try really hard, but it's not as easy as it once was.)
 
I wonder how many more ways there are to lose her.
 
Cause it's getting really old.
 
**********************************************************************
 
And as an aside, and speaking of what she smelled like, I passed a woman the other day who was wearing Red Door Perfume.
 
That is what my mother wore and an instant lump in my throat formed.
 
Do you think I will ever be able to smell that and not get sad?

3 comments:

C. Beth said...

So beautiful, Tia. You are such a talented storyteller.

And when you write stories about your mom, those memories of her are alive, and more concrete, because they are written.

Shannon said...

I second, Beth! Keep telling those stories of your momma! She will live forever through you, then Ellie, then Ellie's children... xoxo

Paige said...

True story...I followed a woman around Marc's one day for 1/2 an hour cause she smelled like Tee...and wouldn't look at her cause in my mind I was shopping with Tee. Gotta get a tissue....