The Trouble Tree

The carpenter I had hired to help me restore
an old farmhouse had just finished
a rough, first day on the job.

A flat tire had made him lose an hour of work,
his electric saw quit,
and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start.

While I drove him home, he sat in stoney silence.
On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family.
As we walked toward the front door,
he paused briefly at a small tree,
touching the tips of the branches
with both hands.

When opening the door
he underwent an amazing transformation.
His tan face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children
and gave his wife a kiss.

Afterwards
he walked me to the car.
We passed the tree and my curiosity got
the better of me.
I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.

"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied.
"I know I can't help having troubles on the job,
but one thing for sure,
troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and children.
So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home.
Then in the morning I pick them up again.

"Funny thing is," he smiled,
"when I come out in the morning to pick them up,
there aren't nearly as many as I remember
hanging up
the night before."

Author unknown

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