#WordPrompt – Green

A Message From The Tree

The leaves on the tree looked beautiful, the russet, reds and golds of the leaves being illuminated in the early morning sun as the Autumn mist began to clear. A few floated down to the lawn as she watched. Something within her stirred, if only she could be as free as a leaf floating with no thought of tomorrow, no one else to consider, just to be. She signed and picked up her books before leaving to go to work.

She was standing in the bay window, looking out at the garden when she next looked at the tree. Its branches now devoid of leaves, its stark outline standing against a pewter coloured sky, the atmosphere cold and unwelcoming. She shivered and pulled her cardigan closer to her, moving away to the sofa where she sat in front of the log fire, her writing pen in her hand. A time for reflection, for penning her thoughts she decided, with no desire to be outdoors on a day like this. She wanted to write, but nothing came.

Spring was early that year and when she noticed the tree again, she could see tiny buds appearing on the end of the branches. Birds were singing and she noticed the garden was looking untidy, the daffodils, their withered heads hanging down now, the beds had weeds growing and other plants needing pruning. She made a mental note that she should get out there and do some work. She sighed at the thought that the garden would be taking up her time when she felt that something else wanted her attention.

The day quickly came when the tree was in full bloom, its leaves a vibrant green glowing in the warm summer sunshine. She stepped out into the garden, loving the feeling of the warmth of the sun on her bare arms. She looked up at the tall tree in its summer splendour, all its long branches in its green finery of leaves, inviting her to spread her wings too.

She paused, truly surprised. At last, she identified that elusive feeling that had been pushing to come into her conscious mind for many months. She was genuinely shocked at the resentment she now felt. She clearly identified that for years she had had enough of shouldering everyone else’s burdens, cleaning up after them, cooking for them, everyone taking her for granted, no one ever once asking how she was feeling. They were grown up now and her marriage had withered with the dying leaves, many autumns ago.

With a light heart, she headed upstairs to find her suitcase – it was time to go.

© Mary Bishop 2022