Beneath the Oak

The wind blows fiercely, yet I remain. The leaves blow and make that soft wiper that is so often used to describe the wind. Dead leaves try to fall, but are instead swept miles away form there tree. The squirrels that are residents of the tree are bundled up in there little knot in trunk, twenty or so feet up. About 5 feet up on the magnificent oak is a ribbon with a bow. Being color blind I would not know its color, yet I have been told that it is yellow. Sitting here under neath it, I choose this tree because of the memories. I walk one hour through the forest I come here every day. It seems like it is the only constant in my life recently. My only wish is to be able to remember all the good and bad memories I have. I will not follow all my family, I do not want them to die again. Mom, so sweet, so caring. The way she baked those fantastic apple pies, or so I'm told. The way they drew crowds every time she baked them. I never knew her, dad brought me up. Such a kind dad, I remember when he tried to build my bike, such a failure! Every once in a while you had to remember to tighten the bolt on the handle bars otherwise when you turned them, the wheel on the font will not turn. Or that time where we were playing with my toy RC helicopter, and he souped it up to go faster. Well that did not end well when it went into Ms. Renolds's roses. It chopped them to bits, both of us were laughing on the floor when she came out. My sister took care of me when I was 10, when dad went back into service. She was so smart, but always on the job. My brother and I were always playing on the computer when she got home around 10. Striate to bed she told us both. We resisted but we did as we were told. When my brother turned 18, he when right in after my parents. So trigger happy in the games never got to touch a real gun, the transport he was on going to his first base hit a bomb. My sister was still strong. I haven't attended school in 3 years. I fell off the grid when my sister was shot at work. Turns out she was a CIA agent, how fun. Her and my record was wiped off the board when she interred the job. Shot in the back of the head at her desk doing paper work because somebody has it against the government. So I sit here, between the trees, beneath the oak, that every one in my family played in. Today is the last time I clime it. I untie the bow on the trunk, and clime. The wind rips the ribbon out of my hand and ketches on a branch. I get it and hop on to the lowest branch. I tye a bow at one end and a loop at the other and jump. Now every one in my family as died twice.