Underneath The Willow Tree

• Paige Porporis, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2020

It was the middle of Spring, yet it appeared that the sky was gently laying down pure white sleets of snow. Willow stood in the middle of the abandoned courtyard behind her warm home, where an old willow tree creaked as she stared up into the pale abyss. The howling wind was blowing her hair across her freckled face. A small, wooden bench sat to the side of the courtyard with only three legs still attached, it appeared to be in dire need of a paint job. The snow turned into tiny shards of ice, one hit Willow on her hand and left a tiny mark.

But she cared not for it as she was thinking something much more important. Her faded red scarf was following the way of the wind as she looked down to her black snow boots. Suddenly, a high pitched whistle was carried by the wind and through Willows ear. She looked up quickly, unsure of what was going on in her surroundings. The young girl glanced at the bench with three legs, it was if it had become even more broken than before.

With a determined look, Willow adjusted her scarf and walked towards the bench for further investigation. The mark from the ice shard turned from painless to a stinging sensation, so she placed her fingerless glove onto it to warm it up. She stood up to the bench and took a final stare at it before looking back up at the willow tree that now appeared to be in full bloom. “I miss you grandfather.” Willow spoke and stood upon the grave below the bench as she remembered the fond memories she shared with her grandfather, remembering the stories he had told her about the willow tree, remembering that it only blooms for her as it would for him.