Knothole

This is an entry for the July Month-o-Minis contest at Brigit’s Flame.

Word count: 145

Constructive criticism is welcomed!

I put the car in park and walk up to my childhood home that’s now for sale. The tree in the front calls to me. I stare up at the knothole that I used to think was the gateway to Narnia. It reminds me of To Kill a Mockingbird and summertime and the tree house I wanted to build but never did. As a sapling, this tree walked all over the yard while my mother tried to find the perfect place to plant it.

I remember the sweet neighbor who gave me this tree, too, and how she was more than a neighbor; she was family. She was also the first person I lost to death. As my fingers brush against the familiar feel of oak, I can almost see her face and hear her laughter again.

If only I could uproot the tree and take her with me.

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