Why Did My Daughter Trip on a Tree Root? Here’s One Explanation…

Deep down among the tangled tree roots little elves build their homes. They gather water to drink from the dew that drips through the dirt. They carve their homes out of rock deposits, and they dig tunnels that lead up and out of tree trunks so they can feel the warm sun on their faces and arms, and waltz with the evening wind.

One spring evening a little mischievous elf named Pom left his granite home and scrambled up through his tunnel. He popped his head out of his elm trunk and sneaked around the side until he found his favorite hideaway: a small patch of dirt between two smooth roots. The air smelled like fresh rain and sprouting grass. The sun made blocks of light against a pale sidewalk that stretched up and down the street. The wind lifted up Pom’s hair and then gently laid it down again. Pom noticed a little girl, about three years old by human standards, walking down the sidewalk, holding the hand of a taller girl wearing purple shoes. Another taller girl, wearing blue shoes, strolled behind the purple girl and the little girl. She held the hand of a young boy, who kept asking about playing something called “tag.”

The little girl pushed her wispy blonde hair out of her eyes and pointed to Pom’s tree. She said something intelligible and then giggled. Pom made out the words “chair” and “sit” next. The little girl let go of the purple girl’s hand and walked toward Pom’s comfortable spot between the elm roots. Pom ducked down as low as he could. The little girl set one foot on the root to Pom’s right. The orange and pink flower attached to the little girl’s sandal tickled Pom’s back. The little girl turned around to look at the purple girl. As the little girl’s gaze left the tree, Pom jumped out of his hiding spot and sat on top of the little girl’s sandal. Pom heard the purple girl say something to the little girl. The little girl lifted her foot, and Pom began to topple off of her sandal. He grabbed the little girl’s toe to break his fall, which made the little girl fall face-first into the patchy grass outside his tree.

Pom had never heard such a woeful sound before. He ducked down between the elm roots again and covered his pointed ears. One big tear coalesced in his eye, traveled to his nose, and dripped off the end. More tears followed, and eventually a salty little puddle formed beneath Pom’s feet. The woeful sound stopped just as Pom felt he could bear the sadness no more. He peeked out from between the roots and saw the little girl wrapped in the arms of the purple girl. Her face looked red and blotchy, but she still laughed at something the purple girl said. The blue girl and the young boy who liked “tag” arrived and both hugged the little girl in turn. The eyes of the blue girl looked especially worried. The young boy’s brown eyes seemed as full of mischief as Pom himself.

Pom watched the young boy tap the little girl on the head and then run down the sidewalk. The little girl followed. Her gleeful cries made Pom stand up. His eyes twinkled. The little girl turned around, and Pom waved as high as he could. The little girl waved back, kicked up her heels, and chased her brother as fast as she could. They both disappeared around the corner. The purple girl and the blue girl ambled behind. Pom felt like they were drinking in every sip of the cool evening air.

Pom put out his hand and the wind wrapped around his fingers. They danced a short waltz together, to the rhythm of the birds’ calling out to one another, and then Pom let go of the wind. They both bowed. The wind picked up a small pile of leftover leaves and put them into Pom’s arms. Pom winked at the wind, and then he walked back to his hole in the elm trunk.

The stars poked through a canopy of silk. Fireflies circled round and round each other in the meadows outside the city, while beetles crawled along the cracks in the pale concrete sidewalk. Deep down below the tangled tree roots, Pom slept soundly, curled up underneath a blanket of leaves piled on top of a bed of moss, fast asleep in the throes of a lovely dream. He and the little girl danced with the wind all night long.

Photo: Craig McLachlan on Unsplash