The little girl climbed up the weeping willow, the tree’s vines caressing her little form as she climbed. Higher and higher she went, running her hands along the limbs of the willow’s outstretched branches. The child hummed a tune that played within her mind, a thread of her mental headspace as natural as breathing. Where it came from she did not know, only that it was her song. When she squeezed her eyes shut she could hear a voice sing along with her, a voice that promised protection and a love deeper than any she could remember.
Flashes of distant dreams danced along her consciousness, black and white photos contrasting with the blue sky above her. Laughter like stones skipping along a river, bright azure eyes akin to flittering blue bird feathers, soft, strong hands that swore never to let go. Still she climbed until she couldn’t go any further, her fingers hurt from gripping trigs, her knees were stained brown.
She looked up and lifted her hands up to the sky, straining to touch the clouds far above her. Her humming became louder as she opened her mouth, allowing the tune to punch the air, to cry out, to break out. The tree curled in around her, as though it’s vines wanted to protect her from the pain wracking inside her.
Her song floated away up to the heavens and she sat back on her knees, defiantly wiping her eyes. Silently she climbed to her father down below, his brown eyes searching for her, his arms ready to close in around her, his smile tinged with bittersweet pain. He swept her into his arms before she could jump to the ground, holding her tenderly cheek to cheek.
He sat her down on the picnic rug, pulling out sparkling apple juice and two plastic wine glasses. Toasting to the willow trees health, they smiled at each other over their glasses and drank deeply.
“As promised,” her father began, “I met your mother when she was nineteen, she was bright and excitable, filled with dreams bigger than her heart could contain…”
The child settled on her back and closed her eyes, following her story through her father’s eyes.
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