• Cole Stolte

Oak Tree

We planted it together, her and I. We went smiling to the store and couldn’t resist rescuing the small sad looking sapling that was dying from diswant. We watered it everyday, her and I. It grew to reach the rooftop, with wide roots running all through the yard and wrapping around the rocks in its way. We played under it, her and I. Our son ran around and hid behind it during summer hide and seek sessions with us and his imaginary friends. We cried under it, her and I. When the ice glazed over the road and the guardrail failed to do its job of stopping my grey SUV with our son inside. We yelled under it, her and I. Blaming each other for the unfortunate loss that neither could have known was coming or could have done anything about. We fought under it, her and I. Me calling her names and her slapping me across the face only for me to push her against it, because we couldn't slap the ice or the guardrail that killed our son. Today I cut it down. Not we. Not her. Just I.

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