Cat's Apricot Tree

The old house we moved into after the divorce had a giant apple tree with a tree hut built into the branches. We played there often. The little kids could not climb up until they were no longer toddlers. I enjoyed playing there with my sisters, but I had another tree that I liked even better.


Toward the back of our yard was a huge, old apricot tree. It was covered with thick branches and green foliage. Because this tree was so big, I could climb up the sturdy branches and perch where no one could see me. I spent many hours in that tree. I felt safe – like no person could see me, touch me, or hear me when I was tucked into the leafy branches. I was free from the pestering of siblings and parents. The tree was my calm and quiet friend.

Mom would come outside and call, “Jane, Jane.” But I wouldn’t answer her. No person, not even my mom could know about my secret safe place. I felt a little guilty, but not guilty enough to answer, “Here I am.” I would wait until she went back into the house, climb down quickly, and run inside to see what she wanted. My tree stayed safe for about two years.

One late spring after the tree had leafed out, we had a horrible blizzard. Between the wind and the weight of the snow on the leafed out branches, my safe place was torn out by the roots and flattened to the ground. I mourned my tree. I wanted my step-dad to be able to right it and put the roots back into the ground. He said it wouldn’t work because too many of the roots had been broken off – only a few remained. I knew he was right, but I wanted him to try to save its life. I kept thinking, ‘He won’t even try.’ My young mind didn’t even consider the size of the tree – it would have taken a crane to lift it.

I felt horrible as the tree was cut into pieces small enough to take away. Mom had taught us that if we sinned there was a price that had to be paid. If we didn’t pay the price for our sin then someone else would have to pay the price for us – meaning that someone we loved may get hurt or sick. I knew I was guilty. I had killed my tree – my safe spot – because I hadn’t answered Mom when she called out to me. My tree paid the price for my sin. I cried for my tree; I missed it so much. I was nervous again because I had no safe place to go anymore. There was no place for me to hide so that I could recharge.

Now that I am older, I realize that the tree didn’t die because I was naughty; it died because of the snow storm. God wasn’t punishing me. I did learn that quite often I prefer my plant friends to humans; trees never lie to me or make up stories to scare me into being good. I mourned more for that tree than for some of my friendships and relationships that have ended. Trees give – they never take. That tree belonged to Cat. It was her safe place. In her emotional safe place that tree still exists – only now it has a house in it so that she doesn’t have to come down unless she wants to.

One time I lived in a house that had no trees, I thought I would die for want of them. As I drove down streets, I would imagine a giant machine that could dig a tree and put it in my yard. The house was a rental, so we couldn’t even plant a tree in the yard. Luckily I didn’t live there very long.

If you are having a tough day, go out and meet a tree. If you can’t climb it, sit and let it support your back. Feel the strength and power in the tree. Listen to the breeze ruffle the leaves – they often sound like wind chimes. I swear trees have a life force that helps recharge a person’s batteries. I am grateful for trees.