Weeping for Willow

The bell clanged across campus, signaling the end of another school day. Genevieve bundled her school things into her bookbag. She hurried out the classroom door and into the already bustling hallways. Most people were headed to the bus lot or to their parked cars, but she had a different destination in mind. Genevieve pulled a knit hat down over her ears and short red hair and smiled. Every day, she went straight to the park after school. She would sit by the riverbank under the big old willow tree and do her homework while listening to music and contemplating life. Her parents didn't get home until about 5:00 anyway, and she would rather sit in the company of the tree than alone at home.
She skipped down the cracked steps leading up to the back door of the old highschool and dashed across the road, looking both ways before crossing, of course. Genevieve walked along the other side of the road for a while, scuffing her shoes along the sidewalk and kicking at pebbles, until she got to the entrance of the community park. She walked past the playground, ball fields, and picnic shelters until she got to the river. The river had an official name in the maps, but everyone just called it "The River." In her childhood years, Genevieve had played on the banks of the river, giving it fantastical names that fit her mood and whatever game she was playing.
Today she sat under it's flowing boughs, puzzling through PreCalculus and listening to Imagine Dragons.
I'm not a selfless man
I'm not a man of wealth
If I had all the world,
Probably give it to myself
But the trees begin to walk
And the ground begins to talk
But the trees begin to walk... Genevieve glanced up at the streamers of leaves above her, cascading almost to the ground and creating a natural tent to sit in. She could almost imagine this tree as a sentient being, with a gnarled wooden face and uprooted toes. She unplugges her headphones and let the music dance up through the branches and catch on the leaves.
Reach, It's not as bad as it seems
I cleanse in the river for somebody else,
For anyone but myself
She could almost hear the tree sigh as the cool wind rustled the branches. Genevieve smiled at this thought. She knew it was impossible, but still loved the idea that maybe the tree could hear her, and maybe one day the tree would respond.
With a triumphant slam of her textbook cover, Genevieve finished her homework. She bundled her work back into her bookbag and stood up, gazing up at the tree. She looked around to make sure no one was watching, then she hugged the tree.
Genevieve knew it was childish. She knew that if anyone saw her, they'd tease her to no end, but she thought of it as telling the tree "thank you" for all the times it had provided a calm place for Genevieve to think.
She turned down the path she had come from and made her way out of the park and back home. She checked the time on her watch and grinned. By the time she got home, her Dad would be home and fixing dinner. Probably shepherds's pie, Genevieve's favorite. It was a good thing Genevieve liked shepherd's pie, because it was their dinner on many occasions.
Genevieve headed down the sidewalk to where her house, a little white cottage with green shutters and a brown door, sat waiting for her like it always is. She opened the door and found it unlocked, which meant that her dad was, in fact, home already. She took off her shoes and headed to the kitchen to find her dad.
"Papa! I'm home!" He turned around and grinned, pulling her into a grizzely bear hug.
"Ginnie the pooh!" He chortled. "Did you have a nice day at school?"
"Dad... I'm not five anymore. When will I grow out of that nickname?" He ruffled her hair, the same color as his.
"You'll only grow out of it when you stop being my little girl, and you'll always be my baby girl." Genevieve smiled. She secretly loved the nickname, even if it was a bit childish.
"What's for supper?" She asked, taking off her jacket and hanging it in the hallway beside the door.
"Shepherd's pie!" Genevieve laughed.
"I'm going to my room to read. Tell me when Mom gets home."
Her dad nodded and she grabbed her bookbag, taking the stairs two at a time to her room. She grabbed a book off her shelf and lay down on her bed, opening to her old Winnie-the-Pooh bookmark. She soon became emersed in a land of hobbits and orcs.