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This is a story, my first attempt at writing a short story to be exact. Emphasis on s-h-o-r-t. I wrote it while in the van on our way home from a trip to South Dakota. We did indeed drive by a house with a tree next to it (its on the south side of I-90). As for the exact location - I'm not sure, but it is closer to Vivian than to Rapid City. I should look for the mile marker next time we drive that way. I am honestly not sure what type of tree it was, so I just chose one. The story is untitled and unedited, so bear with me.

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A lone tree stands near a rundown house. They do not mean much to the people who speed by everyday, but if the house and tree could talk they would surely share their wisdom.

It was back in 1923 when a young man built a small, cozy house on the west side of his 80 acre farm. Though the house was small it was well-built and weather tight. The house was set on a nob of a hill, not too tall as to catch the wind but high enough to see some of the surrounding prairie. The young man had just come west from Minnesota where his family lived. He had come from a hard working family of nine. God had placed him in the middle and so there was little chance of him inheriting any of his father's land. Determined to make a good living, he set out for the prairies of South Dakota and found the perfect little place near Vivian.

The young man had land, a house and plenty of back-breaking work to do, but his heart was sad. When he left his home town in Minnesota he had also left behind the love of his life. She was the pretty young daughter of the local general store owner. She was somewhat short with long, curly brown hair and captivating brown eyes. Her heart ached just as intensely as her beau's. It had been agreed that he would come back for her after he had built a house and harvested his first crop. She kept herself busy by sewing fine dresses for the ladies of standing. This also earned her some money which she intended to use to buy a few pieces of furniture after they married.

Just as promised, the young man boarded a train headed east when the last of his crop had been harvested. It was during this journey that the house grew to feel very lonesome. No one opened the door or windows so the air inside became stale. The only sounds the house heard were the wind blowing and the coyotes howling in the distance. It was a lonely time indeed. Just when the house thought she couldn't take it any longer a wonderful thing happened; the young man came back bearing his beautiful bride with him. The house couldn't have been more pleased with a fresh coat of paint for now she was a home.

As a special wedding present for his bride, the young man had bought a young oak tree. He planted the oak to the west side of the home. Now the home took it upon herself to protect the young tree from whatever elements of the weather she possibly could. She was as kind and protective as any good mother would have been.

As the oak grew so did the young man's family. The home was tickled from her floor boards to her shingles with every birth. The children learned to walk on her floor and talk to her walls (for their mother was sometimes too busy to listen). These things pleased the home, but it was the nightly family rosary that delighted her. Both the home and the oak tree loved to listen to the melodious sound of the family praying out loud. It was times like this that the home herself wished she too could pray out loud. What joys filled her heart through these growing years.

Many years passed by for the home and the oak. The young man became an older man and his wife's hair turned gray. The children grew up and left the home, which sadden her. The home itself became older and bit rundown for the old man couldn't take care of her as well. The oak grew and took over the job of protecting. He was like a good son and tried his best to shelter the home as she did for him when he was young.

Then the saddest day arrived - the old man and his wife must move to town. They packed their few belongings and loaded them in their car. Both took a few moments to remember the joys and sorrows shared in their small, cozy home. Both shed a few tears and said one last good-bye to the home. Gone were the pitter-patter of small feet, gone were the giggles of little ones, gone were the sounds of the family rosary. The only things that remained were the wind and the howl of a coyote in the distance.

To this day the house is not lonesome for she has the oak tree to talk to. They remember the good times and bad times. They continue to age and only time will tell how long they have together. Their only regret is no one says a rosary anymore. It is because of this that God smiles down with great happiness upon the house and the oak tree.

the end