When I was 4 or 5-years-old, nearing the start of kindergarten, my preschool had sod installed in the back of the playground. After one of my weekly concerts, where my best friend and I would sing our favorite song, "Follow Me" by Uncle Kracker, for the other students, I noticed the new sod. I found it absolutely fascinating that grass could be pulled up in sheets, and I decided to hide small objects underneath a few of them. Smugly, I placed an acorn under one of the pieces of sod, imagining that a huge tree would grow in it's place.
As soon as we were led back inside, I began feeling incredibly guilty. Clearly if there was supposed to be a tree there, someone would have planted one. The next day, I tried to remove the acorn, but I could never find it. While the sod took root, I had terrible nightmares in which I was playing when a full-grown tree suddenly appeared. In my dream, the adults were baffled and called the police to investigate. The nightmares lasted for weeks, and I lived in a constant state of worry that my crime would be found out.
On one of the last days of preschool, my father was driving to drop me off. I remember suddenly bursting into tears and confessing the illegal tree planting. He reassured me that I had done nothing wrong, and that a tree would probably not grow there, anyway. Instantly, I felt freed.
Now, more than 15 years later, I still think about that instance. Whenever I feel like my thoughts are irrational, I remind myself of the acorn. I can't help but wonder, however, if a tree ever managed too take root.
As soon as we were led back inside, I began feeling incredibly guilty. Clearly if there was supposed to be a tree there, someone would have planted one. The next day, I tried to remove the acorn, but I could never find it. While the sod took root, I had terrible nightmares in which I was playing when a full-grown tree suddenly appeared. In my dream, the adults were baffled and called the police to investigate. The nightmares lasted for weeks, and I lived in a constant state of worry that my crime would be found out.
On one of the last days of preschool, my father was driving to drop me off. I remember suddenly bursting into tears and confessing the illegal tree planting. He reassured me that I had done nothing wrong, and that a tree would probably not grow there, anyway. Instantly, I felt freed.
Now, more than 15 years later, I still think about that instance. Whenever I feel like my thoughts are irrational, I remind myself of the acorn. I can't help but wonder, however, if a tree ever managed too take root.
