Seventeen Summers


I have been alive for exactly seventeen summers. I’m not very old, but apparently I look that way because of my flaking paper body and long, awkward arms.

I’m young, though, and I work just as hard as any other tree to produce oxygen. I have tried to do my best for as long as I can remember – working day and night to keep myself healthy so I can grow big and strong for the world.

But there is one thing I’m confused about.

Everyone – the wind, ground, rain, and other trees – are telling me that it’s fall, but my rings only tell me I’ve been alive for seventeen summers. I feel like I’m somehow a season behind and because of that I’m trying to catch up on shedding my leaves, but that doesn’t make sense. And really, it’s impossible to speed up that kind of process.

What’s even more astounding though – no other tree around me is doing the same. I’m the lone tree trying to make up for falling behind.

Maybe Mother Nature forgot to tell me something – some important piece of knowledge about all this rain that I should know.

Or, she might think that it’s time for me to go. I hope that’s not the case. I want to live to feel the wind blow and animals burrow. I want to see the people walk around me, growing and changing. I want to see what happens next.

There’s nothing like living and giving life. The world needs me – people need me – and that’s been my mission. I don’t want to have to give it up.

So, I guess I should keep going. I’ll let my leaves turn orange and shake them off my arms. I’ll just keep living and giving for as long as I can.

Maybe I’ll figure it out on my own.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Finally! I’ve finished. I never expected this piece to take so long, but it was just so hard to get the words out in an eloquent manner. I’ve worked on this for about two weeks, and it’s really not that long. In fact, it’s a bit cheesy and depressing – and the first piece I’ve ever written and posted without having another person edit it first. :O

But I like it. A lot. I got inspired by the tree outside my bedroom window. It’s the only one on my street that’s been bothering to lose a bunch of leaves, and I just decided to write from its perspective. Hopefully you’ve enjoyed my amateur writing. 🙂

There’s other reasons why I haven’t posted in the past few weeks, though. I’ve been packing, and going to graduation parties of the once upperclassmen.

I can just hear you – “Packing? What for?”

Well, I went from dear ol’ Ohio up to grand and fantastic Michigan. I’m vacationing with my family, which is great because I’ve been needing this relaxing place so badly.

Anyway, I’m going to go out to eat for lunch in a few; I should be getting ready.

Regards,

Krista

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2 Comments

Filed under Short Stories

2 responses to “Seventeen Summers

  1. You forgot the part where the logger comes and cuts down the tree.

    😉

    You know you love my cynicism as much as I love your story (which is to say…a lot).

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