Poet Tree Part 2 | Teen Ink

Poet Tree Part 2

March 12, 2018
By M.De.Anderson SILVER, Upper Marlboro, Maryland
M.De.Anderson SILVER, Upper Marlboro, Maryland
9 articles 0 photos 4 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Personal Introspection. First Mountain, then cannon." -me


“You can take a break now, my son.” said Father C. “Thank you, father.” the son said in his maturing voice. Father C. watched his son walk inside, filling himself with pride of his son’s strength; he smiled. “If only I can get him into this new market.” He whispered to himself as he stared at the rust and dirt beneath his foot. He continued digging for about another two hours.

When he came inside, a bottle of water was sitting on the wooden table, the wooden cork sitting beside it. A plate of nature’s placenta laid cooked and green was to his right. He sat down and ate of his wife’s handiwork. Soon, to his surprise, his strong shoulders were grasped by hands made of hearths. He then calmed, and relaxed. “Your son has gone to see his help meet.” The voice said behind Father C. “Is that so, my love? At such time?” “It is, and still so. I reminded him of his holy obligations.” “Well, I sure hope he enjoys his good thing as much as I have mine.” She gave a smirk as she moved to sit across from him and discuss their finances and her related endeavours in the city. Father C. thought to himself, “Years later my belief holds true. The women here are no joke, especially not my woman.”

“Where is he? It’s been li’le more than two weeks since he din left. He should tell us when he’s gonna be gone this long.” His wife wraps her arms around his neck. “Don’t worry so much, there ain’t nothing we can do here.” Father C. agreed. He casts those feelings aside and went back to digging.

Upon the visit of the bloodthirsty dusk, the pitch and powerful black returned home. The son stepped out to see his father still digging. “Father!” he called out, “Forgive me for such extended absence.” The son continued to the door. After a while, Father C. came in and sat at the table with his son, setting down the uproots. “My son,” he looked up from his paper and pen. “Have you applied?” His son broke the visual connection and continued writing. “No.” “You understand the opportunity in digging for and planting trees for those people? You cannot make the youthful mistake my father made.” “I understand that, but right now I am busy.” “Son,” he said more harshly, “what is it that you are doing with this?” The boy looked back at him. “I am digging.”

After the heated conversation and turning his cheek to his father, the son left again for a few weeks. When he returned, he brought his help meet with him. “Father, mother,” the son while locking arms with his partner, “we would like to take you somewhere.” The digging couple turned to them. “After we are done with this harvest, we will go,” said the woman half covered in dirt.

The five family members arrived at a cabin. “That’s it.” The older members stepped out the automobile in awe. The younger exited together and was met by the wiser eyes. “It's yours? How can it be?” the mother asked with wonder. “Mommy,” the maiden addressed to her mother in law, “we worked hard!” She punched her fiance’s arm playfully. “But the real surprise is inside.” They walked inside the log cabin. The floor was flat wood, and the walls were as wavy water under the bark. The four people stood side by side in a line at one point, showing space for two more on each side. The room they were in had a table towards the opposite wall, chairs under it, and a chest on top. The young couple walked and grabbed the chest together and presented it to the older. They opened it, and inside was the monetary surprise. The older stuttered in confusion, “Is...th-this...” “Enough to allow you to retire.” The son- the man- said pridefully. “It’s all from my poetry,” “And my occupational work too.” said the young woman in correction, glaring at her man. “Oh yes of course, but I’m sure you wouldn’t stop working so easily, so I prepared one more thing for you, father.”

“You can take a break now, father.” is what his son seemed to say to Father C. with the retirement fund. “Thank you, son.” is how he responded by his current actions. Father C. watched his son walk towards him, filling himself with pride of his son’s strength; he smiled. “If only I can get his brother to be that strong.” He whispered to himself as he stared at the healthy green leaves glistening in the lowering sun above his son’s head. He continued digging for another dozen tree saplings..


The author's comments:

The second and final part of this story. Hope you enjoyed! Keep Thinking!


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