Microfiction Yggdrasill The tree had been in the yard for as long as I could remember. Countless summer days climbing its branches; we used to imagine the seed pods were grenades when we were playing. We would spend endless autumn afternoons raking the leaves, jumping in the piles, and raking them up again. I used to stare at its bare skeleton during the winter months, examining every empty stick. Sometimes I would lie beneath it and try to form images with the negative space between the branches. In spring I would try to find the first leaf bud. The tree had always been there for me, until I wasn’t there for it.
Reading a book made me want to start writing in here again. I guess I can write more in here than I can in my little blurb on facebook.
I was never much for writing in here, I would always get to the post an entry spot and realize that all the shit that has happened is not really that big of a deal.
I am going to have to learn all the tricks of LJ again if I intend to keep this up.
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