Maisy - The Boab Tree

• Chelsea Lee, Grade 7I
• Short Story
• 2018

"Dad! Just going to climb Maisy!" I call out. Some people think these trees are just like any other but I know better. She has a name, because she's a Boab tree, oozing with character. She's my Maisy.
As I walk slowly through the farmyard, I glance around at the authentic red barn and never ending rows of green paddocks, the horses occupying them munching lazily on the grass. After embracing all of my surroundings, I finally see Maisy snuggled in the corner of the fence. I shimmy up the ladder I keep against her and look at the mountains stretched out as far as the eye could see.
Reaching the canopy is always the best part. Her dull green leaves shade me from the rest of the world like a bubble of protection.
I hoist the ladder up and rest it gently over Maisy's branch. Suddenly, I hear our screen door open. Dad's voice rings through the garden, reaching me and Maisy. "Clemmie, you've been out there all night! It's time for dinner!" he exclaims impatiently.
After dinner it's bed time. I walk over to my rickety bed and glance at the chipping paint on the roof. I close my eyes…
The next day I wake up and change into my farm gear. After I have some breakfast I walk to the door of Mum's study and see a model of the farm on the table. It's a great model but something seems off about it. I finally pin-point what is wrong. Maisy is gone and in her place is an oversized, shiny, colour-bond shed.
I look at mum through the door crack but she is busy talking to some builders who are discussing the shed.
Tears form in my eyes. Mum spots me and moves towards the door.
I run as fast as I can straight to Maisy. I fly up the ladder, pull it up and cry softly into Maisy's hard trunk.
As I hear mum's footsteps approaching, I hold my breath and tried to disguise myself in Maisy's leaves. She has already seen me run out here so it's a futile exercise. "Honey, you need to get down. Maisy may be leaving us but you have to let her go. She is only a tree," she says. Mum has just crushed all of my hopes.
A horrible winter (and I'm not just talking about the weather) passes and when we are rebuilding the barn in Spring.
That's when I see it. A tiny green sprout poking through the rubble. I try not to get my hopes up, but it's hard. It's too thick to be a normal tree. It's tiny leafy sprouts area familiar dull green.
I smile.