A little while ago, my Nan found some old newspaper clippings from when I was in elementary school. She gave them to me and we both had a good chuckle. It was also an "aww" moment to read my words from way back then.
"There was once an old willow tree and I can tell you that it was nothing like a pillow. It was gruff, it was tough. It was nothing like any other tree, it should have been at sea. It had fur but it really was a blur when the wind went whistling past. I loved that willow tree. I felt as if I were it and it were me. I would tell my Mom over and over, 'But I am the tree and it is me!' She would tell me over and over, 'You are my son, you are not that tree.' 'But I am the tree and it is me,' I would tell my Dad over and over. 'You can not chop that tree down in the summer. It is me and I am the tree, so let it be.' 'You are not the tree, you are my son,' said my Dad.
Finally my Mom and Dad realized that I was the tree and it was me!"
Oh, the mind of a third grader who fancies herself a writer.
(Image via Pinterest)
No comments:
Post a Comment