I was creating a piece for the website Six Word Memoirs and decided to create it as alliteration. I will admit, I was on the fence with "AI" because we use it as one word, but it is actually two. Does this mean mine is actually a seven word Memoir? Hmm.
Adolescents adore: apathy, anime, angst, AI
The Mulberry Tree
Other kids had tall sentinel oaks dropping helicopters that danced and spun in the wind, or majestic maples throwing acorns to the squirrels. They stood tall on broad thick trunks and dwarfed the houses in their shade. No grass could grow beneath them for they blocked all the sun. Nor could we ever dream of climbing the giants for the lowest branch was miles above our heads. To us, their sole purpose was to serve as home base. It was a place where a Seeker could lean their forehead. With eyes closed and a limited view if they tried to peek due to the sheer girth of the trees, they would chant:
“Last night,
Night before,
24 robbers at my door
I got up,
Let them in,
Hit ‘em in the head
With a rolling pin.
One, two, three,… ”
… while everyone else sprinted to find the perfect hiding place.
However, the tree in our backyard was special. It was not a tool to be used in play. It took care of us. We were sent out in the morning and not allowed back in the house until dinner time. There was no snacking; it could ruin your appetite. Some got lunch; most – did not. So, it became our tree of life. It was a beautiful – squat, short and wide with limbs and leaves that branched out into a huge Angela Davis afro. It was decorated with delicious purple, red and black mulberries that were covered in tiny squishy cracks and crevices waiting for us to eat. At its base was a trunk with the most perfectly gnarly twists and turns that were stairsteps to the fruit ladened branches above. All the neighborhood kids would converge on our treasure in the afternoons and climb as high as we could reach, straddle a sturdy branch, and pluck the juicy berries that stained our hands permanently purple and popped them in our mouths. We stuffed ourselves until we could not make room for one more single berry. Then, we’d carefully climb back down and run off to play – pausing only to wipe spider webs from the rusty water spigot beside the house before taking a cool drink.
One day, my daddy, tethered to his oxygen tank, leaned out the window and called down to me to get a bowl, and fill it up with mulberries for him, which I happily did. After quickly scrambling up and gathering as many as the bowl could hold without losing my balance, I ran back into the house and handed it to him.
He said, “No, go into the kitchen and fill the bowl with water. Then pour salt into it, and let it sit for an hour.”
Salt? I was grossed out, but I did what I was told. Why in the world he wanted salt on his berries was beyond my comprehension. After an hour, he called me back in and told me to go get the bowl. He told me to pour off the water, then rinse them.
When I went to grab the bowl, I froze.
There, floating on top of the water, were thousands of tiny little black bugs.
I was beyond speechless.
It was absolutely disgusting.
I miss those mulberries.
They really were so sweet and delicious. But, needless to say, that was absolutely the last time I ever put another mulberry in my mouth.
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My Mulberry Tree
Behind our house
Was the most beautiful tree.
It had an Afro
That spread wide
Decorated with
Purple red black
Mulberries
Covered in tiny crack and crevices.
Its trunk
Short, squat and gnarly
Steps for us
to climb
Up
Into the fruit-ladened
Branches.
We straddled
Them as we plucked
And popped berries
Into our mouths
With our forever purple
Stained hands.
My daddy,
Tethered
to his oxygen tank,
Called down one day.
“Get a bowl,
Fill it
With berries.”
I did.
“Now, cover it
with water,
Pour in
Salt.
Let it sit
For an hour.”
In one hour
I grabbed
the bowl.
And Froze.
Tiny Black
Bugs
Floated
Swam
Covered
The top of the
Water
That covered
The mulberries.
Many
Many
Bugs.
I miss mulberries.
I never ate
another one.
It is truly that time of year. The restlessness has set in and the lack of focus is impacting work. Everyone is suddenly tardy as if there is no concern for consequences. Reports are turned in late – if at all. Patience and respect for others is all but gone and there is the occasional shouting or bitter bite-back talk and sass in the hall. Admin is rarely available to quell any issues, and when they are, even they find a little pushback. Spring fever and the nearness to the end has truly affected everyone. Everyone is ready for summer … and so are the students.
I was creating a piece for the website Six Word Memoirs and decided to create it as alliteration. I will admit, I was on the fence with ...
