The Weeping Willow

I grew up in a small town where people living closely took turns putting on musical displays. Not that there was a written agreement, or even spoken, it just grew into their customs. Sunday evenings were my mother’s turn when old and young folks would jive into her collection. One of her favorite songs was Alton Ellis’ ‘Willow Tree’. And as you might guess, songs like these can make a boy take the meaning literally. The words hummed into one’s soul telling the tale of a willow tree that would weep once someone starts crying.

Unfortunately, there were no willow trees in my community, or even in the nearby counties. However, the older I got, the deeper the song carved its meaning in my mind. One day when I turned sixteen, my high school visited another parish school in a sports and science competition. That day I discovered two things that would change my life forever.

The Elim Agricultural School was flanked to the eastern side by a precious reservation of exotic trees. The 30-acre expanse was set in an odd rectangular fencing bordered by a small stream. According to our guide then, there were freshwater trout further upstream but outside the school’s property, and on the other side was the Falmouth River. The riverbank was home to one of the largest habitats of weeping willows in Jamaica.

Meeting My First Willow Tree

Dying with curiosity I asked the guide if willow trees really cried. She explained that from a scientific viewpoint, it did not. However, due to the water that frequently runs down its leaves, it would seem to cry.

Later that day, we slipped away to visit the river and meet my first weeping willow tree. To my surprise, the trees were huge, greenish-yellow lush plants that seemed to dangle their branches and leaves downward. If we had modern apps then, I would have spammed my social media with pictures, but back then in 1996, pen and paper ruled the day.

Against my friends’ warnings, I broke off a branch of the tree and took it home. My parents would not have me plant it in the backyard due to the small area. Fortunately, the lack of farming area was not one of my grandma’s problems and soon the tree was sprouting. That day, I also met her. She had stood silent and patiently watching me plant the willow branch.

How could I have lived here sixteen years and never seen her before? When I was through, I went over and said hello but she only smiled at me before running away like a little girl. I asked my grandma about her but she did not recognize her.

Following Mom’s instructions, I watered the branch once per week. By the third week, the first sign of life appeared in a little green bud bursting away at the seam of one of the branches. As I watered the weeping willow, she came up to the fence and watched me. We exchanged smiles again, but she still would not say anything. After a while and tons of questions without any answers, she ran away again.

Falling in Love With a Stranger

This time I shared the matter with my two friends but they had never seen a ‘pretty wearing silver wolf earrings.’ One of them believed that the girl was dumb and it would do better if learned sign language. I followed the advice knowing somehow that she would return.

I was dead wrong. The weeks went by and she never returned. The willow branch grew rather quickly and soon was a tender shrub almost waist high. After a month had passed, I gave up hope and quit my self-study classes.

September is always a sure rainy month, storms and floods become the new normality. One evening, I decided to build a block wall around the foot of the weeping willow. This would protect it from heavy water and prevent the floods from dragging it away.  I went inside to get another pair of blocks and when I returned she was standing beside the tree.

“If I promise not to ask your name, will you stay until I am finished?”

She looked up and smiled. She was so beautiful. Where did she live and how could she not know that she was driving me crazy?

“So, you do care for me, If I tell you my name will you come and see me every day?”

She speaks! Almost like a baby learning to talk, but she was not dumb. Her smile brightened her face as she seemed to await my answer anxiously.

“I will come and see you as often you wish. So, you won’t be running away?”

“I actually like it here.  But now that I am sure that you really care about me, I will stay.”

“Where would you like me to visit you? No one here seems to know where you live.”

“I will meet you here every day. I am new here. What is your name?’’

“Henry, and now that I have made you the promise, what is yours?”

“People tend to break their promises after I tell them my name. I grow more beautiful each time someone cares for me sincerely. Sometimes, they really do, but they become afraid when they meet me.’’

Of all the things to have a phobia of, beauty? I could not fathom why someone would be afraid of someone this pretty.  One of my friends is afraid of dogs, and even one lad is scared of lizards, but not beauty.

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“Come on, you can trust me.”

“Tweety finger?” I nodded and she continued. “I Am Weeping Willow.”

The lyrics of the song rushed back to mind. Did the writer or the singer have a similar encounter? Sadly, I understood why people became afraid and ran.

“Weeping Willow, do you really cry?’’

She smiled ear to ear at my response. “Yes, I do, but only when your heart gets broken.’’