When I was in second grade at Fremont Elementary School I was the keeper of a magical tree. This was a large tree all the way at the end of the field by the back fence. Every recess I’d go to this tree and open it with my magical key. My key was a tiny branch that I buried at the foot of the tree trunk. I’d place the key in one of the small holes in the tree and turn it in a certain pattern; right and left and right…I can’t remember the magical combination anymore. The tree would open up and there were all sorts of tiny potions of shelves, the bottles we all shapes and sizes and held liquids, powders and smoky remnants of different colors. I invited a friend to enter this mystical world with me and we’d visit this tree every day in secret. No one else could know of it. This went on for some time...we sprinkled magical dust on the blades of grass and they grew ten feet tall, we recited special words that made strange animals appear...
After some time the magic was gone, the key wouldn’t work and we stopped visiting the tree. I went back when I was in fourth grade before getting transferred to Bullard TALENT and searched for my key. I dug around the base of it until I found the small piece of a branch that resembled my key. I still have it, packed away among other memories from my past. I wonder if the magic tree still stands there and if my key still holds the same power.
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