“You know my father planted that oak tree right there,” Lizabeth said.

Shaking her hand, frail as a wren, pointed to the massive tree outside her window. Its stout branches reached into the second floor bedroom window. Its velvet green leaves brushed the sill gray. EJ looked up from the laundry she was folding. She visited Elizabeth everyday and had heard the story of the mighty oak approximately three million times. At first hearing the story of the oak over and over annoyed EJ. She was trapped between this stubborn old lady and that damn tree.

Now after so many months of inescapable trees and septuagenarians, EJ saw Elizabeth’s story as a harbinger of a good day. Not a morning of explaining who she was and why she was there to a frightened woman. Not an afternoon of calming down a raging old lady who was convinced strangers were looting her china. The family had all agreed to pretend EJ was a simply a friendly neighbor who liked to visit Lizabeth each day.

“Your dad planted that massive tree. Why he must have been a giant, a regular Colossus, ma’am,” EJ said. “Was he a sight to behold, ma’am.”

Lizabeth laughed. For a moment EJ saw Lizabeth as she had been. EJ laughed as she folded the clean laundry.

“Oh you flibbertigibbet. When he got it the tree was thin as Warren’s leg. Father got it from the Elk Lodge, I think. Just this big around it was. And it was a little bit shorter than my father who you know was not a tall man. We all helped him dig the hole to plant the tree. I helped the most since I was the oldest. Mama was so mad after that oak was planted. She said it was too close to the house. That the tree would grow and grow and scrape the house. Mama was a dear heart yet still quite contrary,” Lizbeth said.

“Yes I know,” EJ said as she put away Lizabeth’s clothes.

“And my father this oak that comes up to my beard is my joy. That oak tree that is big enough to scrape the house is someone else’s problem,” Lizabeth said clapping her delicate hands.

With an empty laundry basket on her hip, EJ smiled.

“I’m going to bring up the linens. I’ll be right back Gram—ma’am with those little wafer cookies. I want to hear more about your tree.”