Note: Written for the RG's November WCC, with the prompt "Ah, this is obviously some strange usage of the word 'safe' that I wasn't previously aware of." (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). Check out the other entries and vote for your favorite November 8th-14th. :)


In the aftermath of a thunderstorm, I find my willow tree blown off its roots, sprawled on the ground. What used to be measured in feet above is now measured in feet away.

Thirty-five feet away, there's a branch that reminds me of another storm, another time, when I climbed the willow in pouring rain and harsh winds, and willow and I swayed...

That branch is flattened to the ground now and I tell myself, "this is where I could've landed if that storm was our last storm."

But in my memory it still feels as carefree as dancing.