The Sycamore Bond

The Sycamore Bond



Brock had no shoes on but kept at a brisk walking pace trying to find someone as welcoming as the sun. He only wants someone that will reach out like the sun’s warm rays upon his face, quelling his troubles. It seems as if friendship is the missing link in James’ life of struggles and misfortunes. Friendship is the type of bond that evokes a smile to Brock’s face. Friends are like the drugs of comfort that make you forget about the pain, sorrows, and sadness sprinkled upon your daily life. But, without friends, life is an insipid merry-go-round to the same old tune, and viewing the same old sights. With all of Brock’s misfortunes, such as the loss of his dear mother, his life spirals out of control. Life for Brock is an unpredictable lottery, but he has secret friends there to back up every inevitable downfall.
Brock Swift had just released himself from the tensioned household that brisk November night. He loved to think to himself, mainly because others would disagree. Brock arrived at a dirt road intersection when a police officer pulled up beside him. “Where do you live, what’s your name, and where are your shoes?” I gave him answers to his first two questions. “Well do you want to call someone kid?”, “No”, he said Looking up at the shadowed crescent moon. “Ok, well make sure you get on home soon”, “Yeah I’m gonna go talk to a friend”. So Brock Swift kept his brisk pace up and did not stop until his friend found him. The day seemed like his friend, but James found a new personal friendship in the Moonlight. “Do you understand me?”, Brock listened for a response. He heard an Owl, the rustling wind through the trees, and stillness of the brisk night. That was his answer from the Moonlight. Relaxing in the sillouette of a broken premature sycamore tree, Brock whispered “ Finally, peace at night with no more suspicion or heartaches” Then Brock spent the whole night in the wake of the Moon’s reflective shine fixing the tree behind him. Using fallen braches from the tops of older Sycamores, he braided them around the tiny innocent one looking for some of the same scintillating moonlight. “There you go! All better. Now you can grow to un-thought of heights, just like your family”. This word family made Brock choke up. He wanted the same connection as his evening family did. So, in the waking of the sun, Brock Swift raced home without shoes, scraping his heel a couple of times in the process. He arrived at the doorstep and felt empowered to take on the new challenge of opening up a vent towards growing in his first and forever family bond. The door opened and Brock threw his arms around his father, and a new day had begun