We had a nasty storm in the early morning hours today. As I lay and watched my room light up again and again; I wondered dimly if the windows of my car were rolled up. No matter, a wet bum isn't the end of the world. It's funny what goes through your mind when you're startled into consciousness, isn't it? Grocery lists are added to and the annoyingly catchy song that wouldn't leave you alone is back on ‘play'. It's like your body got its rest but the brain galloped along and prepared itself for whatever was to come next. And what an unordinary day it turned out to be.
Briefly, sleep took its turn at the wheel again that morning, only to be cut short this time by my father screaming "The other way! The other way!". What in the hell? The tree. The old withered tree in our backyard had finally met the wind of its destiny, and had given up the good fight. As I looked out my kitchen window and stared in disbelief at that fallen monster, I felt overcome by sadness. This tree had been here before any of us; watched its environment be razed by overzealous landscapers and had stood strong when my friends and I swung from its branches in our childhood. Now it lay in the freshly made mud, it's neck snapped and arms sprawled lifelessly onto the property next to us. Somehow, this tree deserved so much more than to fold in a freak micro burst and be ogled at by insurance companies and the neighborhood alike. There was no dignity in its passing.
As the pelting rain slowed to a sprinkle, my father trudged outside to survey the damage. He walked around it, knelt by it, and touched its thick mossy trunk with his own withered hand. Finally he stepped back and stared forlornly at our fallen friend, shaking his head. Just another thing the old man had lost control of. One of the many recently laid off, he has been working feverishly to earn his GED. It will be a tough road for him, financially and emotionally, but not one that he has not traveled and conquered before. He looks in the mirror now and sees a man with no income, no pension, no education...no machismo. For the moment, he is broken too.
The birds of the neighborhood couldn't hide their disgust at mother nature either, and didn't try to for our benefit. Almost immediately after the break and fall, there was an angry chorus from the chickadees, thoroughly pissed off that they, too, would have to regroup and rebuild. Usually friendly and spirited, the little bodies sat scattered around the tree with their chests puffed out to keep warm; switching from one foot to the other. Their faces had taken on the disgruntled hue usually reserved for our cat when she takes her evening stroll on the deck. They sat and stared, perhaps contemplating the robins' offer to vacation with them in the south this winter; or to just live in someone's overhang for the time being. The next time I glanced out my window, the birds and my father had both made their solemn exits.
Days later, a crew came out to rid of us our inconvenience. They did so swiftly and mercilessly, as if it were simply one of the many useless trees they'd cleared in their time. In an hour, it was over. All that is left is a mound of splintered fragments where a mighty legend once stood, and the neighbor's crushed fence it had taken down as one last middle finger to all of us.
Like the people of New York, I look at the horizon outside my bedroom window now and can't help but feel uncomfortable by the sudden emptiness our tree has left for us. For 22 years I'd glanced outside and taken it all for granted, assumed I didn't have to pay attention today, because there was always tomorrow to appreciate what I had. Everything was like it had always been, and then fate took over and my view was drastically different. There is too much blue sky out there, too much space and nothing to see. The tree may be gone, but it's legend lives on.
