I wrote this short story Sunday night.
My Strong Old Life
September 28, 2009
Many years ago, my siblings and I were born. There were three of us. I’m old now, but here’s my life story: I was the runt between my siblings and I. They were worried about me. I couldn’t eat or drink. But I proved them wrong. I eventually started to grow, and I got taller than them. I grew and grew and grew. One year when I was in my adolescent years, some men came and took one of my siblings away from me. I flailed my arms and screamed for them to not take her away. But the men didn’t listen. The next day, the dreadful men came back, and they took my other sibling away from me. I knew they wouldn’t stop, so I didn’t even try to stop them. I was afraid that they would come back for me, but they didn’t. But I didn’t let my siblings departures keep me tied down either. I continued to grow, and I admit, I did grow a lot rounder. I continued to soar to great heights. When I grew as tall as I could, I watched over my neighborhood. My home for as long as I live. I still live there. And I’ll continue to keep watch. As long as my strong old life lets me.
* I was inspired to write this after I read an article about California’s Redwood Forests. *