Our Tree

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression: Well this was a rather moving piece here. I think you've setup it really well here by starting off by describing this relationship and the dynamic they shared and how wholesome it was before dropping that bomb about the death right at the end.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Our tree. That's what I thought of it as. Twenty feet off the ground, with the branches bending under your weight, and the rough bark scraping your hands. Where the sun shone on your back, and the birds sang you a song. Always our tree. That's the last thing he said to me.

Saturday morning he'd spent the night at my house, like usual. He was my nine-year-old nephew, and his father, my twenty-seven-year-old brother, crashed at my house a lot. I'm eleven.

We woke up at eight, we were both early birds, and tried to make pancakes, quietly, while everyone else was sleeping in the living room. Epic fail. We'd woken up everyone with pancake batter on our hands, syrup in our hair, and a big plate of pitiful pancakes for the both of us. We both ate a lot. We had a lot in common, showing off our family blood in a million ways. After a thorough scolding from my mother, the two of us had scurried upstairs to my room and played Xbox for a good hour. I beat him in Call of Duty. He beat me in MW3. We had a good laugh because I'd promised not to shoot him, and then accidently shot him when he magically appeared in front of me, and then he came back to life and I shot him again. And then he shot me.

After that, we'd bounced around and wrestled on the trampoline, then saw who could jump the farthest off the boat without killing themselves. Our brother took us all, me, him, my seven-year-old nephew, and my ten-year-old sister, fishing. I tried to tell my brother that we should bring a bucket in case we caught something, but he said we wouldn't need one. And then we caught this totally awesome large-mouth bass, and we couldn't keep it because we didn't have anywhere to put it. My brother was a total idiot. Then we'd gone home and ran around the yard, all five of us, and played baseball and frisbee and played with the dogs.

Then, when the sun kissed the horizion, me and him'd gone to our tree. We climbed up high as we could, and watched the sun sink into the ground, painting the once-blue sky a gazillion different colors and shades. We watched as the stars peeked out from the sky, and named our own constellations.

"Our tree. Nobody else comes up here 'cause they're too scared to jump off the roof. We're the brave ones, and this is our tree. It'll always be our tree, right?"

"Yeah, sure, little dude." I'd laughed. I had just accepted it as a small comment; it didn't really matter to me then. It sure did now. Because the next day, he died in a car wreck. Along with my brother and other nephew. I got the knews while I was sitting in the tree. I was stunned. We'd done everything together, it was like losing a right hand, or a piece of your heart. I nearly fell out of the tree. And then I saw the silver beads we hung in the highest branch we could reach. So I cried in the tree. In our tree.

I still miss him. I'll miss all of them. But I still have our tree.

If this is true, I'm really sorry for your loss I hope he rest's in peace.If not I found this an amazing piece of work. I really like the connection you make between the reader and writer. It feels like a true story. Again if its true I'm truly sorry your loss. My condolences are with you.