My Tree of Yesterday
‘I want to stroke the soft parts of his ears and look into his eyes and say hello’
‘It’s bark feels rough in my fingers, I remember that.
If I were to return to the earth that lay beneath my feet my entire childhood, I’d hug it and listen for it’s heartbeart.
I’d skip to my favorite tree, crouch down really low, inhale and smell the dirt around it’s base. I’d stomp on it’s fallen leaves and make the loudest crunching noise I could and I’d roll in them and smell them and fall asleep in them. I’d hide in it’s branches and sit in the fork with my legs dangling down.
Let me sniff the dirt, let me taste it on my tongue, let me roll it in a ball and squash it in my fingers. Allow me to stroke the smooth white trunk of my eucalypt tree- let me hug it, let me hold it in my arms and remember my home that was.
I want to feel it in my bones.
I want to build a bonfire with Dad, in the middle of winter, with my brother and my white Labroador, and my Tabby cat who sat in the fork of my favourite tree and kept guard, but never really joined in. I want to collect sticks and branches and pile them up in thee bits of me warm.
I want to make a seat out of a log and sit on it watching happily as Dad collects more kindling and my brother rides his BMX over dirt jumps.
I want to see the innocent waddle of my dog-Regal-again.
I want to watch him sniff every blade of grass and every tree trunk and run happily and freely with all of us. I want to feel his fur on my palms. I want to stroke the soft parts of his ears and look into his eyes and say hello. I want to tell him that I’m sorry I wasn’t there when he grew old, and if I had my time again, I’d make him toast and tea and we’d sit together for a while and chat. I would tell him I’m sorry it took me 40 years to understand that.
I want to walk up that road.
The long dirt road filled with bits of rock that made for a rough bike ride. I want to post a letter to our home-made letterbox that Dad made which lived at the end of the long dirt road, and collect the mail and read it.
I want to smell the air. To suck it up, close my eyes and remember what it felt like to be 12.
I want to fall asleep in my litttle bed and listen to the sounds of my past. The grunting Koala that would wake me, the fighting cats that I always mistook for a deserted baby, the musical notes of the magpie outside my bedroom window.
I want to feel the edginess of the bark on my favorite tree and be swept up by memory lane. I want to scrunch it’s leaves in my hands and inhale the scent of yesterday.
I want to, I want to, I want to…
So far away, so far, far, away
but I close my eyes
and I’m hugging my favorite tree, and I’m scrunching it’s fallen leaves…
WordPress -Daily Prompt