Brenda, my aunt who was two months older than me and my mother's youngest sister, was also my very best friend, who shared our childhood at Grandpa's house, her Daddy's house.  We lived life like there was no tomorrow.  Every minute of our precious day was filled with excitement, creation and the magick of pretending...two little girls on a joyous adventure.  We were having the time of our life.  And nothing was going to change that...almost.

When we were about eight years old, Brenda's hands were covered with warts.  Who knows where they came from...they just started showing up in what seemed like a short time span.  Oh, how they bothered her.  She hated them so bad.  I remember one day Grandpa called us both into the living room.   We knelt down on the floor beside him as he sat in his old chair.  Grandpa was a big man who spoke with a distinct Kentucky accent.  He wasn't a real educated man; schoolbook educated that is, but had a Masters in Living a Good Simple Life.  As far as I was concerned, he knew everything.

As we sat there on the floor looking at him, he started to tell us both a story about the old Elm tree way out back at the far corner of the potato field.  We knew this tree; it was huge, old and draping. He proceeded to tell us that this was a magickal tree and he wanted Brenda to go there and sell her warts.  He asked her if she wanted to get rid of her warts.  Yes Daddy, she said.  More than anything.

He continued by saying "I want you to go to the old Elm tree, alone...Tricket can't go with you.  This is something you have to do alone.  It's between you and the old Elm tree and no one else."  I think she was a little frightened, but listened intently for more instructions.  He told her, "the time is of your choosing, when you’re ready."  She said she was ready and wanted to know what else to do. "You must believe", he said, "or it won't work 'cause the old tree will know if it comes from your heart." 

He continued..."When you get to the tree, stand there and be quite and think of nothing but your warts and how much you want to get rid of them. Think hard.  When you have done this...look up at the old tree and say out loud..."Old Mr. Elm Tree, I want to sell my warts to you."  Tell the tree how much you want to get rid of them and you never want them to come back.  When you’re done selling your warts to the tree...break off a small twig.  By doing this, you have sold your warts to the old tree and in return the tree has given you a twig for payment.  When this has been done, then come back to the house and put the twig somewhere where no one can touch it forever."  This was very important he told us, because if someone touched the twig, the spell would be broken and the warts would come back.

So, this is exactly what she did.  She drug a kitchen chair into her bedroom and stood on it at the door.   She gently put the twig in a crack in between the wall and the doorframe where it would stay forever.  I stood there and watched her until she got back down.  We both stood there together and looked at the twig.  We believed the spell.  Brenda told everyone in the family what she had done and asked them to never touch the twig.  Of course, everyone knew not to, 'cause this had been done before with my older aunts.

Several weeks passed... and to our amazement her warts began to shrink and disappear until they were completely gone.  The magick came full circle.  Brenda and the spirit of the old Elm Tree made a good trade.

As the years passed, so did Grandpa and Grandma and a way of life.  After 25 years the old house was condemned and the property was sold.  The new owners were going to take possession and tear down and demolish the house.  I remember my mother telling me to go ahead and go out to the house and see it one more time and to retrieve an old cupboard and the kitchen table that nobody wanted.  While I was there, I remembered the twig in Brenda's bedroom and the story of selling her warts to the old Elm tree.  I walked through the hall to the room and entered through the doorway.  As I turned around and looked.... there it was...that old brittle twig was still hanging in the crack of the door.  Indeed, no one ever touched it and she never had warts again for the rest of her life.

Tricket