He watched them from between the strands of his leafy, green hair. Watched as they walked, conversed, lived. He watched them laugh, watched their tears fall.
Yet he remained silent. He’d rustle his leaves from time to time, but mostly he stood quietly.
He wondered if they saw him. Saw his inverted tear drop shaped foliage. Wondered if they thought about him. Or if they simply took the shade he offered for granted.
He sighed inwardly, thinking about the mighty oaks and pines. They ran in packs and here he was standing solitary. Sure he was chosen for this place, but it wasn’t as one choose one of the noble firs with which to illuminate. It was merely by chance that he should arrive here in this place under the hot desert sun.
But if he examined his roots, this felt right. He may have ended up here by chance but he would perform his life’s calling with pride.
He rustled his leaves as the wind blew.
Saturday Stories: A (weekly) feature on PrudyChick.com. All stories are written by Prudence Landis [unless otherwise noted as a guest post]. Photo credit: Prudence Landis
