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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2080547-The-Tree
Rated: E · Chapter · Experience · #2080547
A chapter on a book i'm working on.
The following account is part true and part fiction of which I will not or can not divulge … Yet.

It is a bright but chilly September morning around eight o'clock, and I am on my way to work to pound the paths as a postman.

Heart FM blurts out loudly on the car radio probably Madonna or someone just has meaningless, to be fair I am not taking too much notice, it is just something to have on in the background whilst I negotiate the eight miles or so of bends, junctions, roundabouts and traffic lights. At the time I am driving a Vauxhall Corsa, which I sometimes think is a Porsche, but in truth, it’s more like a Lada. I’ve seen more punch in a punch bowl filled with some punch made only from exotic fruits.

I have done this journey at different times of the day for the last four years, but this day would provide something different and a little strange, it would also become apparent that it could have proven a little dangerous.

If you can visualize a roundabout that has four exits of which I take the second exit which then bends to the right and up a hill, there are fields on both sides one of which has sheep and the other is ready for grazing. In one of these fields stands an oak tree, nothing special about this tree it’s just a plain normal run of the mill oak tree. I must have noticed this tree every day either to or from work, but forever since this day I have never seen it in the same light.

As I exit the roundabout and as I start to gather the speed needed for the up and coming hill I glanced up at the stand alone Oak, like I have done so nearly every day since, but today of all days as I look up at a branch not far from the top, I can see myself just perched there staring straight at me driving around the corner and up the hill and on into the distance.

Whilst this might seem strange to some it has become a regular activity for me, it’s only the more significant activities so to speak that seem to stick in the void I like to call my memories.

“I’m such a fan of nature, and being with the trees every day fills me with joy.” (Scott Blum)

Once I find myself on top of the Oak tree, still looking at myself driving the Corsa off into the distance, I am no longer in the car, of course I must be but I have no recollection of the time it takes from me putting myself on to the branch in the tree, to actually losing sight of my car off in the distance. Even though I must still be in control of my car, I can hear the leaves starting to rustle, I can feel the wind rush around me blowing my hair and making the tree calmly sway, which did have a relaxing and calming effect,I can hear the Blackbirds singing and Crows cawing, Sheep bleating merrily away in the distant field, and I can see other road users, another car and a van whilst I can see a tractor in the nearby farm go away to do its daily business, it feels and sounds so peaceful away from the daily hustle and bustle of life.

And suddenly I’m back in the car, still in control still listening to Madonna or some other insignificant artist I have never heard of, having just gone over the brow of the hill and onto a straight piece of road and with no recollection of what has just happened (for all I can recollect I must have been in control), I check my drivers side door mirror, I spot myself on top of the Oak tree waving a goodbye wave to me, I take a look at myself in the rear view mirror and shake my head in disbelief.

When I think back to what happened and taking into consideration the colour Yellow, which is my favourite colour (it was the colour of the team I was in throughout my school years and also the colour of my Woggle in my local cub pack). I would like to dedicate this song to the memory of this tree and the vision it has made.

“ Tie a yellow ribbon round the ole oak tree….” by Dawn featuring Tony Orlando.

“The song was actually about a soldier being held as the prisoner,” “The theory was the yellow ribbon would signify welcome from someone who had just been released from a POW camp.”

But both in the US and the UK, yellow ribbons have become a more general symbol of support for soldiers fighting abroad.

So which parts of this little episode were fiction and what was fact, I can not tell myself but I should let you decide.
© Copyright 2016 Stephen Scorer (spiro69 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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