Weeping for the Willows

                                                                    by Dawn DeBraal

lemonade

 How she fought the electric company. The three big weeping willows in front of her house were bigger around in girth than I could stretch my arms. She told me all about how she had put the slips of those the willows in her suitcase when she came from Germany and planted them in front of the house my great grandfather built before there was electricity. They were here first. I admired her spunk when she fought with them. She would allow the Power and Light Company to trim the trees around the wires, but that was it. She would go round after round with them every year like a heavyweight boxing match. I admired my great grandmother who was a sprite of a woman. It was by her will alone that those trees survived as long as she did.  When she died the electric company came and cut those trees down without any notice. I think I cried harder than anyone. I told my mother about great-grandma bringing those willows all the way from Germany just to plant them in front of her house. My mother looked at me strangely.

“Grandma didn’t come from Germany. She came from Arkansas!”