for one more day

“You know, for three years after I married your father, I wished for a child….”

She exalted softly. “I couldn’t imagine a life without children. Once, I even… Wait. Let’s see.”

She guided me toward the large tree on the corner near our house.

“This was late one night, when I couldn’t sleep.” She rubbed her hand over the bark as if unearthing an old treasure. “Ah. Still there.”

I leaned in. the word PLEASE had been carved into the side. Small crooked letters. You had to look carefully, but there it was. PLEASE.

“What is it?”

“A prayer.”

“For a child?”

She nodded.

“For me?”

Another nod.

“On a tree?”

“Tress spend all day looking up at God.”

I made a face.

“I know.” She lifted her hands in surrender. “You are so corny, Mom.”

from the novel "for one more day"
by Mitch Albom