Twyla the Twig
Once upon a time, there was a twig named Twyla.
Twyla rested on the branch of a birch tree named Bruce.
Bruce went bananas as his leaves changed colours.
The breeze of autumn swung Twyla and Bruce round and round, back and forth, left to right.
They had finally had enough.
“What should we do to make the wind go away?” asked Bruce.
“You could grow more leaves!” suggested Twyla.
“I can’t…” Bruce said. “…It’s autumn and all my leaves are falling off!”
“You could grow more bark to keep warm for winter!”
“I can’t grow more bark. I would get too heavy and stumble over!”
“You could… you could. I… I don’t know what you could do.”
Winter came and Twyla and Bruce nearly froze.
It was a winter that seemed to last forever.
And when spring came, the leaves returned and the sun returned.
They both got warmer.
“For some reason…” Twyla began. “I am still cold.”
“Well, it is because I grew and now you are higher up. Soon you will be too high up!”
“The air is cold here. Could you maybe grow me some more leaves?”
“I can try. But it’s hard to reach all the way up.”
Next winter came quicker than the last one, to Twyla of course.
She froze and froze and could barely speak.
Meanwhile, Bruce was growing strong.
His bark grew and his roots sunk deeper into the ground.
Twyla was so high up that Bruce made new friends.
“Spring! Alas spring! Bruce! Bruce! It’s finally spring!”
“Oh yes, it appears that it is.”
“How have you been all this time?”
“You know, less cold. I am assuming you were still cold?”
“Freezing. But, I like it up here. I can see the squirrels. The birds are learning to fly!”
“That all seems good and well, but I must sadly go…” said Bruce.
Winter after winter, spring after spring, autumn after autumn, Twyla the branch got farther and farther away.
She got so far away that Bruce couldn’t hear her. Twyla quickly grew sad.
“He’s not responding, is he?” asked a Bird as she landed on her branch.
“No… it’s been years already. I guess I am just too high up. I want to I want to talk to Bruce, but I am too high up!”
“Maybe you could shrink down?”
“I can’t.”
“Maybe you could fall down?”
“As if! That would mean letting go of Bruce.”
“Why do you want to talk with him in the first place?”
“Because… I was the very first twig.”
One season, at about a quarter to dawn, Twyla the twig had an idea.
She called upon Leah the leaf, one of the largest leaves of the season.
Twyla asked Leah to wait for the windiest day.
And on that day, as Bruce rocked back and forth, Leah slowly fell.
She reached the bottom and talked to Bruce.
He could not even remember Twyla’s name.
Twyla was very upset but did not want to give up. So, she called upon a Bird.
She asked the Bird to pick up a wood eating beetle named Rob.
Rob loved to eat wood.
“What can I do you for?” asked Rob.
“I would like you to chew me off!”
“Chew you off? That would take forever. Look how strong and thick you’ve become!”
“Try…” pleaded Twyla.
And so, Rob started to chew and slowly, season after season, Twyla got thinner.
Only Twyla did not expect to regrow. Bruce was a fine tree who took care of himself.
She called upon ladybugs and moths, woodpeckers and spiders. None of them wanted to climb that high, and the Birds have learned to fly.
As time went by, and Twyla soon began to lose faith, she heard a message.
“Twyla!” yelled Bruce. “How is the view up there?!”
“Bruce?” she said in amazement. “Bruce! Where have you been?”
“I was here the whole time.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I was too busy growing. You said you loved being so high up, so I focused just on that…”
“But… but it’s been so long.”
“It has. But we can talk now.”
‘How… how come?”
“Because… I am finally done growing.”
