The Willow Tree

Chapter 2: Sunlight

Persistent chirping was all I could hear as I laid in my bed. After seeing the ghostly little girl by the willow tree in my front yard last night, I wasn't sure I would be able to sleep. Fortunately for me I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. It was the first time since moving in that I had felt at ease. Considering last night's event however, I owed the peaceful sleep to wine, laughter, and being overtired from the lack of sleep from prior nights.

I thought the sun would be well on its way past the noon marker in the sky by the time I rolled out of bed, but it was just shy of it. The microwave clock displayed 11:42 as I walked past it through the kitchen to the washroom. Funny thing was, I rarely used the microwave, which meant it was more an over-sized clock and dust collector than anything. Add in the fact the house was large enough for a small family, and one could see why dust was such a problem.

My parents always asked me when I would meet a nice girl and settle down, but to be completely honest, it wasn't due to me not wanting that for myself, or not looking. Dating had never been my strong suit. Many women would meet me, seem to like me, then just dwindle away into memory, unless of course I wrote about them. Preserving those experiences in a story on paper, or computer was my way of living the fantasy life of a hopeless romantic, one who was bound to be a hermit. Like I said, it wasn't that I wanted this life, I just... had bad luck. Or – as I would sometimes tell myself – I just hadn't met the right one for me yet.

Leaning on the sink in the bathroom, I stared into the mirror. My faded blue eyes staring back at me didn't resemble what I once considered to be full of potential. They were weathered, changed by what I had endured, perhaps changing as I did. Red, spider-crack veins were slightly visible, but not excessive to imply I was a drug user, or lacking sleep. I felt well rested and my messy dirty blond hair indicated that as I pulled at the curls with my fingertips, trying to cover my thinning and receding hairline. Shaving the mop off would save me a lot of trouble, but as self conscious as I was about having little hair, I couldn't bring myself to go bald. Women liked a man with a full head of hair. They weren't all overly judgmental and shallow, but I still had a hard time securing those third dates which typically led to something more – perhaps the last relationship I would ever need.

Strands of loose hair are swept across my forehead so they blend in with the rest, then I return to the sun-filled kitchen. Windows in the house had very thin curtains, which meant the hardwood floors were constantly bathed in light throughout the day. The floor was always warm, so I rarely bothered to wear socks or slippers, and often strode around the house in boxer briefs, or pajama pants I would wear to bed. Living in the country and having no nearby neighbours meant privacy. It also meant peace and quiet for the most part. The only exceptions were nature and the farming equipment that rarely showed face in the fields surrounding my property.

A piece of marble rye toast with raspberry jam in my hand, I walked out of the kitchen into the living room at the front of the house. Pulling back the thin white curtain, I peered out at the vivid green grass, winding stone driveway, my car, then finally the willow tree. I couldn't see any damage done to my old Mercedes, so figured it was safe to assume I hadn't crashed and dreamed about the little girl who ran through me. Glancing down in thought, I sigh, then take another bite of toast as I turn back toward the kitchen.

Now dressed in navy blue track pants and a white t-shirt, I turned on my computer and associated devices, then sauntered down the hall toward the front door. I unlocked the door, swinging it open as I set foot on the cement patio. It was bare, rarely used. Sometimes I would bring a chair out to read a new book, but aside from that, the empty planters wouldn't see much company. I had promised myself I would do something with the decorative pots, but hadn't quite decided on what I wanted greeting me every time I stepped foot outside.

Closing the door firmly behind me, I walked up to my bright silver car that was in dire need of a thorough wash. I circled it completely, finding nothing out of place, which confirmed last night's events weren't just a dream. I was happy that I arrived home safely, however, the encounter with the ghost-like girl still had me questioning my sanity. Not that I was crazy, but perhaps the lack of sleep was playing tricks on me.

Rounded stones pressed into my feet as I walked across the driveway to the lawn, then along the small barren garden the previous owner had tended to. Again, I had plans to maintain some form of vegetation on the plot, but I didn't know when to plant seeds. I would have lots of time to weed it when I needed a break from writing, so it would allow me to stretch and get some fresh air.

Once I got within a few feet of the low hanging branches, I stopped and examined the willow. It looked sad as it drooped toward the ground, as if it were burdened with something heavy. It reminded me of myself as I tried to make some headway in this world. My writing was my new found passion, however, regardless of how great it made me feel inside, I still had to remind myself that Rome wasn't built in a day.