The Ancient Forest

According to Grandma, in California you could drive through the trees. Giant redwoods were so wide that people cut tunnels from them.

We didn’t care whether it was true. The sap flowed down from the old oak chair and we drank it all.

‘Have those trees been growing since humans were bacteria?’

‘I should say so, dear.’

‘I can’t imagine how it feels to be that old.’

Then Grandma died.

The coffin was made of pine. Its harsh smoothness was bleak beneath my palms. Slices of dead life, made to store the same.

What pain they must feel, the ancient redwoods.

Author's Note

Would like to submit this to 101 Words website. So it needs to stay the same length. Would love feedback on how effective it is for its length.