Willow Tree

Jan Healy
EVWP Summer 2009


“Dalton, please don’t do this.” I frantically scramble after my son as he hurriedly tosses his life’s worth in the back of his Tahoe: clothes, backpack, guitar, dog. Roughly, he chides me as if the roles are reversed-he the parent and me, the child.

“You know I have to. I can’t stay in this house,” he tells me sternly, too sternly for even an angry 18 year-old.

Guilt and despair flood me as I grab his arm, “Stop! I have not finished raising you yet.”

He turns to me, his face awash with emotions and looks me straight in the eye, “If you cared about raising me, you would have left him long ago.”

Mutely, I nod and let him go. Watching him drive away, I deal with the guilt and frustration: guilt for his unhappiness and frustration because I thought staying for the kids was the answer. The question quietly forms in my head, “So now do I leave?”

Against the counsel of the voice in my head, I blurt out the recurring thought that had been percolating like coffee. “I’m leaving.” Stunned, I wonder if the words were really out loud or just in my mind.

Stonily, taking a drag off his cigarette, he mutters, “Yes, you said it and you don’t know what you want. You aren’t going anywhere.”

Smoke hovers around my head as he shrugs away the idea. My words have no meaning. Before, I would have raged against the not-so silent accusations and the demeaning dismissal. This time, though, I knew. Leaving would happen.

The time between making the decision and the actual leaving is almost inconsequential. The argument is complete. Pleas, bribes, threats are ignored, and resignation sets in. The important decision has been made and the others are easy: new job, new house, and new state. Children, pets, and furniture are fought for and divided. Papers are signed and the process of packing up the remnants of a life begins. What to take and what to leave behind?


The wrenching part of the journey is the leaving behind of everything familiar…friends, my garden, the lake. Anna, Dalton’s girlfriend, gives me a parting gift. It is a wooden doll from the Willow Tree series. The young woman has her face upturned to the sky as her arms stretch wide to her sides. Bluebirds perch on those arms. Even though her features are not carved, I immediately channel her openness to the world. I imagine that this is me. Happy. Joyful. Free.