My Tree Trunk 

by CLS Sandoval

 
When the boy sits on the tree’s stump at the end of the Giving Tree, I used to think it was sad because they had both lived their lives and been used up. Then, I grew into a woman and became a mother. I have despised my trunk, abused my trunk, expected it to stay 16 or 20. But, just as the trunk of real trees grow stronger and more sturdy as they add rings, so I expanded with age, strength, and wisdom. I have become a waif no more. I am willing to give my daughter anything she needs; my apples, my leaves, my branches, even my trunk. But now, as I read Shel Silverstein’s story to her, and watch the boy haul off what is left of the tree’s body, I pray my daughter would never demand that I be reduced to a stump, just so that she might sail away. 
 

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CLS Sandoval, PhD (she/her) is a pushcart nominated writer and communication professor with accolades in film, academia, and creative writing who speaks, signs, acts, publishes, sings, performs, writes, paints, teaches and rarely relaxes. She’s a flash fiction and poetry editor for Dark Onus Lit. She’s presented at communication conferences, published 15 academic articles, two academic books, three full-length literary collections, three chapbooks, as well as flash and poetry pieces in literary journals, recently including Opiate Magazine, The Journal of Magical Wonder, and A Moon of One’s Own. She is raising her daughter and dog with her husband in Alhambra, CA.