“This is where you met daddy? That’s so romantic,” she gushed, and then softly added, “I miss him.”

“I do too, munchkin, but he’s always in our hearts, remember.”
Bending, I whispered, “That’s the tree under which he proposed to me. It’s my favourite tree.”

“But your tree has a big scary hollow, mama.”

“No baby, that’s it’s soft mushy heart where people in love leave letters for one another.”

“Really?” she squealed, “Did daddy leave letters for you?”

“Ofcourse. And someday some very handsome young man will be leaving letters for our princess too.”

In response to the Friday Fictioneers challenge of 20 October based on a photo by Sandra Crook

14 thoughts on “The tree of love

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