The Willow Tree

Chapter One

I woke up, the morning sun dancing through the small gap in the curtains. I got up and drew them open, wincing for a second at the piercing light shining through the window. I look out into the distance to see the tree sitting proudly and formidably on the hill, breaking the horizon. A youthful river flows peacefully in front of the hill, just past my uncle's field.

A sense of nostalgia creeps over me as I remember the time my grandad had fashioned a swing from an oak plank and two pieces of rope. I used go out to that swing twice a day, running across my uncle's field and jumping on stones across the river until I reached the tree.

My grandad was always very talented with wood and he used to carve a lot of peculiar but beautiful Celtic designs so I asked him to design my swing. I distinctly remember three snakes intertwined to create a beautiful piece of art.

I swung on that swing and occasionally dad would visit the tree with me and push me. He would tell me about the time grandad planted the tree for his wife as a metaphor of their growing love and as they would grow stronger with time, so would the tree.

I visited my grandad once a week and I loved listening to all of his stories and what he did when he was younger. My grandad was an extraordinary man.

I went down to the kitchen to find it bustling with life, my younger sister talking about her plans, Dad stressing over work as per usual and Mam was making a beautiful fry up that tickled my nostrils.

I couldn't help but think back to simpler times, when Mam still had her job and Dad didn't own his own company. While grandad was alive. He used to have a lot more time for us but now his business needs a lot of work. It's crazy how much can change in a year... Crazy how much things can change in a minute.