I know Mommy doesn’t hate me.
I know it’s my fault for making her mad. Mommy is mad a lot. I had to leave until she’s not mad anymore.
I brush my hand through my hair and feel the lump on my head. It hurts. I look at my fingers; they’re red.
I wipe my hands on my pants, then wrap my arms around the big old oak tree as tight as I can. Its branches and stickery leaves spread over me like a warm blanket. Comforting me. Protecting me. So big and strong.
Just like Daddy. I wish he hadn’t left us. I miss him so much.
The leaves rustle in the breeze, full of life, breathing.
Why did Daddy leave us? I didn’t even see him go. Mommy said he didn’t want me anymore, didn’t love me anymore. Was that true? I thought Daddy loved me.
I think back to when me and Daddy came down here to the tree by the river. We came down here a lot because Mommy was mad a lot.
We skipped stones in the water and watched the fish swim, lazy and slow. We laughed at the skittish crawdads scurrying backwards to hide in their holes, then peeking out at us like shy children. We saw the squirrels gathering acorns, their tails swishing and noses twitching. Sometimes, we just sat beneath the tree talking about guy things until we fell asleep in its shade.
Daddy told me that this is the biggest and oldest tree for miles around, planted by the Great Spirit to guard the river. “It’s a Valley Oak,” he said, “the largest, most majestic of all the California oak trees—the king of them all. Strong like King David; wise like King Solomon.”
Why is Mommy mad at me all the time? Sometimes she gets so mad that she hits me. I don’t like it when she hits me, and I tell her to stop. When she calms down, she says she’s sorry and won’t ever do it again, and she’ll be really nice for a while. Until the next time.
I let go of the tree and rub my throbbing head. I feel dizzy. The lump is bigger, and there is more red on my fingers.
Daddy said the Miwok people built their village beneath its branches on the banks of the river. They lived there until the miners—called the 49ers—forced them to leave when they found gold in the river.
Were the Miwoks sad when they left? Like when Daddy left. Was he sad too?
Daddy called it the “Wishing Tree.” He said if I made a wish, and I believed it hard enough, that my wish would come true.
The tree sways in the breeze, whispering in my ear, telling me everything will be okay. I feel peace and calm. And safe. Like with Daddy. I always feel safe with Daddy.
I hope he comes home soon.
I fold my hands. “Dear Wishing Tree, I want to make a wish. Please make Mommy happy with me again. Help her feel better. Amen.”
I forgot something. “Dear tree, I’m sorry, but can I make another wish?” The leaves nod. “Please bring Daddy back home too. I miss him so much. Amen.”
I unfold my hands, cross myself, and remember… before I came here… the look on her face… her eyes wide… filled with tears… her mouth open… not saying a word. Staring at me.
There was a knife in my hand… the blade covered in shiny red. I don’t know what happened. Why was I holding a knife? Why was she looking at me like that?
Mommy was holding her middle like she had a tummy ache… her hands covering a dark stain on her pretty blue dress… red seeping through her fingers… dripping on the floor. She groaned… curled up on the couch… and went to sleep.
I touch the lump on my head again. It still hurts, but not as much now. There’s no new red, and my fingers are sticky and dry.
I dip my hands into the river and slosh cool water all over my face and head. That feels good. I sit at the base of the tree, and my mind wanders…
Birds sing their happy songs in the branches above me. The sun hangs low in the sky, and the clouds have turned red and orange with yellow at the edges. How long have I been here? Did I fall asleep? It will be dark soon.
I need to go home and wake up Mommy. I hope she feels better after her nap, and isn’t mad at me anymore. I hope she is happy to see me.
“Thank you, Wishing Tree. I have to go now.” I turn around and walk back up the hill toward home.
Mommy loves me. Deep down in her heart, I know she does. Even when she is mad. And Mommy is mad a lot.
I want to hug her, and tell her I love her too.
