The Tree's Key

With a reach that seemed to stretch every muscle and tendon in his body he reached for the key.

It came away in his hand and he sat deeply, silently, attentively within the old avocado tree, on a low, horizontal limb, ensconced by so many shades of green and brown and gray that all other colors were imaginary.

Through a small fluttering window in the green, the actual house was visible, with its roof of interlocking red tile and peach stucco, but Theo preferred this spot to any of all possible corners within that edifice and would miss this tree as home.

A Mayflower truck sat in the drive, the ship on its side sailing east. Knowing this was his last time under the verdant canopy of childhood Theo unwillingly climbed downwards.

“Theo, Get down from there!” His mother called through the summer breeze. “Your father just got a call, he’s been re-hired!” The glorious words spoke of unspent summers to come. “We won’t be moving after all!”

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