The Sycamore Tree

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 26, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 26, 2017



The clouds are a murky grey and the sky is leaking again. The pavement is spattered with grey stains while rain water slithers down the corrugated grey roofs. The cars roll along the roads, their wheels spinning with stale water.


The pale face of a girl peeks out from beneath her large umbrella. A mop of tangled hair straggles out from beneath her bright sunhat. Despite the deep shadows that hang beneath her eyes, her face is bright and her eyes sparkle as she looks eagerly ahead.  Adjusting her floral hat seated on her head, the girl continues to make her way as she swings a picnic basket in her hand. A large bouquet of flowers peek out from under the red checkered cloth. A white paper, stapled to the cloth, flaps in the strong wind.


‘To Ellen, my best friend. Love, Siobhan.’


The scribbles on the paper are blurred, nearly illegible.


For so long the girl has yearned to see Ellen. And now, at last, she can. A wide smile adorns her face. She does not notice as a woman holding a flimsy newspaper nearly knocks into her. The rain pounds harder still against the umbrella.


A young girl stands with her legs tightly crossed, her tiny face scrunched up and flushed.


“Ellen...I think I peed in my pants.”


Ellen stops drinking and her mouth forms a small ‘o’ as she lowers her pink water bottle.


“That’s okay.”


Her mouth spreads into a grin and she pours the remaining contents of her water bottle on her pants.


“We can go to the bathroom together.”


The girl smiles reminiscently. Ellen is always such a good, good friend.


The leaves sway with the wind before they are battered by fierce drops of rain. The soles of her shoes are damp and wet but she pays it no mind. The checkered red cloth is covered with large splotches of water.


The words of her therapist echo in her mind, slow and calm.


“Well, Siobhan. Have you tried telling your friend about how you feel? Have a little chat with her. You- will both, feel much better.”


She has taken that advice to heart. It is a pity they had a falling out before Ellen went away, she thinks. Siobhan has buried herself in school work in Ellen’s absence, immersing herself in her books and studies.


But that does not matter, neither does the rain, nor the fact that it has been a while since she has seen Ellen. She is going to see Ellen now, and for now, that is all that matters to Siobhan.


The rain thins and all that is left is a beautiful silence as the girl pats the damp basket contentedly. She’s made Ellen her favourite cheesy chicken jalapeno sandwich. The one they ate over the entire summer before Ellen left.


The girl turns into a peaceful path that stretches languidly across the serene grassy area. She folds her umbrella carefully, wiping the rainwater off her palms with a tissue and straightening her dress. It is imperative that she look her best for Ellen.


The water droplets on the fine blades of grass shimmer before her eyes as she walks up a little hill. A tree rustles and sways softly as the wind whispers secrets into its rustling leaves.


Ah, this is the place.


Siobhan sets down the picnic mat, settling down cross legged on it. Leaning back against the  tree, she takes a deep breath of the cool quiet air.


It is quiet. She can feel the bark of the sycamore tree gently grazing her back, the wind tickling her cheek.


A melancholy smile plays across the girl’s features as she closes her eyes. She places a hand on the cool wet granite of the headstone.

“Hello Ellen. I’ve missed you.” She says.


A breeze brushes through the cemetery, sweeping the fluttering paper away to tangle in the branches of the sycamore tree.


© Copyright 2020 Isabelle Lean. All rights reserved.

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