Annie Stevens’ Tree of Life - Gina Headden
One of the Top 24 submissions in our 2022 Urban Tree Festival writing competition.
Annie Stevens’ Tree of Life
At 3 months old
…one morning in May my parents wheeled me into the Botanic Garden, to the site of their favourite tree. It was a twig of a thing, scarcely big enough to bear the weight of its name: Juniperus rigida. But it was new—we all were—and its scent called my parents to Christmas, to walks in the wild and to the soft forest floors of their courting. They dipped their fingers in dew-laden grass, baptised me in nature’s green temple.
By the time I was 33
…my parents were dead and my first marriage felled. I sought out my tree, only fully knew why when I saw it had changed shape to protect me. Its canopied branches wept like a willow, but unlike the willow that sighs disappointment, my juniper stood steady and strong. A child rounding my belly, my back to the juniper’s trunk, I finally let my tears flow.
At 63
I stop still.
Juniperus rigida’s evergreen branches have dulled—and in places turned grey or brown. I run a hand through my silver-black hair, my gammy knee twingeing as I walk to the foot of the tree. I bow and my juniper bows back. It seems we’re agreed, so I crouch by its dying roots, dip my fingers in dew-laden grass and, in this most sacred of temples, touch their tips to the head of my grandson.
Gina Headden
Gina Headden’s writing has been published on Easter Craiglockhart Hill, on audio platforms, in anthologies, and in fiction and non-fiction magazines.
