The Reading Tree

Chapter THREE

Growing up i was always the odd ball out, i got picked last in sports, i didn't have many friends and i looked awkward for my age. I remember in the sixth grade i was taller than all the boys including my crush. I tried to slouch to make myself shorter which resulted in my very bad posture. I wore glasses too big for my face and no matter how i dressed it never was as cute as the popular girls. I had frizzy curly hair and just couldn't figure out how to use a straightener.
In the eighth grade was when i had my first real boyfriend. He wasn't popular and really wasn't all that cute but i liked him and he was nice to me. Morgan was his name, he had brown hair and golden brown eyes. My parents didn't like the idea of me "dating" and we didn't last long when i found him making out with a highschooler under the bleachers. I was devastated and promised myself from then on i wasn't going to let a boy break my heart again. My mother says i shouldn't let some immature middle school fling stop me but i know better.
Since then i haven't really shown much interest in boys, i focused more on my studies and trying to get a high GPA.
"Honey why don't you come in here and help me with supper" my grandma says as we walk inside. "We are having chicken and dumplings!"
The centerpiece of the kitchen is a round wooden table my grandpa built with a light blue tablecloth draped overtop. My grandma always has fresh flowers in a vase, today shes got yellow daises and blue hydrangeas.
Covering the walls are pictures of family, probably every family member dating back to the 1950's. Antiques hang in the spaces between, things like old rolling pins and cheese graters. They even have old wooden chairs hanging from the ceiling in the living room.
"Why don't you start on the dumplings and ill get the chicken ready." she says
I love cooking with my grandma, Ive done it for as long as i can remember. Ive actually taught my mother a few of her recipes.
"Sure!" i answer back.
Walking over to the counter by the sink i get the biscuits and start rolling them out. Carefully cutting them into inch slices.
The door suddenly flings open and we hear "Wheres my two favorite girls?" my grandpa walks in and I watch my grandma's face light up as he walks over and kisses her sweetly on the cheek.
"Now honey, make sure you wash up" she says and swats him right on the butt.
I laugh and continue on about my biscuit cutting.
After dinner i help my grandma wash and dry the dishes, she insists on doing it the old fashion way. Although i sometimes wish she had a dishwasher.
"Do you need help getting settled in your room?" she ask.
"Oh no I'm okay but thank you!" i say back, as much as i would love to stay up and hang out with my grandparents, I'm awfully tired from the drive.
On the way up to my room I find myself walking down the hallway looking at all the pictures, wondering about all these cousins and great, great grandparents i don't know. So much history along these walls, so many stories to tell.
My bedroom is small but just the prefect amount of space for me, Ive got a bed with a Buffalo plaid bedspread, a wooden dresser and window. The window is weathered, cracked and sometimes makes a whistling sound when the wind blows. My grandpa has tried to fix it several times but seems to be unsuccessful. I giggle thinking about it.
There is a window seat that i absolutely love, its still my favorite part of the room. Its got a mustard yellow velvet cushion with brown buttons and a tiny hole on the side. I love to sit and look out at the farm and the oak tree that sits on top of the hill. I find myself infatuated by that tree, its so beautiful and strong sitting up there all alone. I call it the reading tree, for i always find myself up there reading romance novels.
My grandparents planted that tree when they built this cabin, they said it would grow tall and strong just like their love for each other. Now it stands mighty on top of the hill overlooking the farm.
Looking out my window i daydream watching the sun set and the stars come out. Secretly wishing i had someone to love, someone to love me back. A love like my grandparents.