Up a Tree

“What!”

Charlie awoke feeling small clawed feet on his back. Though not painful, he felt the tentative steps travel up his spine toward his head. He opened his eyes. Seeing he was twenty feet off the ground, he tensed. Somehow, he’d slept straddling the tree limb he was clinging to.

How…! Did I sleep up here?

A squirrel bounded off his head and up the branch. It turned and scolded him. Its chatter didn’t need translation.

His panic subsiding, Charlie told the creature, “It’s okay, buddy. I thought you were lost.”

Its tail twitching, the squirrel scampered up the branch.

It took a moment for Charlie to realize he not only had no idea how he got up this tree, he had no idea where he or the tree was. He only knew he couldn’t remember last night. And he felt his thirst might kill him if a fall didn’t.

How did I get up here?

Easing down to the main trunk, Charlie found footholds and inched his way to solid ground.

Ah, to be grounded.

He stretched and stepped out from the shade to take in his surroundings. He stood on the outskirts of a small town. One and two-story buildings stood a mile off. A water tower dominated the skyline. Harvest-ready fields spread out in every direction.

Where is everyone?

Charlie had never been lost. He always had a strong sense of place. But today, everything was a blank. He couldn’t remember the last twenty-four.

It’s early, but there’s always traffic.

Charlie felt for his phone. He always had his phone. He scanned the ground around the tree.

Nothing. Now what? How do I find… anything?

The wind blustered from nowhere. The sound of a million shimmering leaves drew Charlie’s gaze.

A hundred leaves slalomed and spiraled around Charlie to the ground. One came to rest at Charlie’s feet and teetered in the shifting air. A delicate balance.

Is it thirsty? Does it wonder, ‘what now?’

It settled as the breeze abated.

Does it have any idea how small it is?

Thirst called him toward town. He clawed his blonde hair back with his fingers, adjusted his clothes and walked.

If I had a sport coat, I’d look like a proper bum. Now I just look scuzzy.

Having no destination and no known location didn’t bother him as much as he expected. Taking in his surroundings as he walked, Charlie felt awe, like he’d awakened to reality for the first time. Even the road was vivid and seemed to vibrate in anticipation of great things on the verge.

There are gazillions of quivering atoms out there. Bound energy. Nothing solid. The ground could swallow me at my next step. Do people ever notice this cosmic dance? An electrical charge always flows, positive to negative. Yet never stops. What if it did?

Red-winged Blackbirds took flight from cattails growing in the ditch. Everywhere he turned, everything seemed to glow. The most common things took on a sense of deep importance. Every second counted.

I’d take notes but then miss everything unfolding before me.

Our galaxy has never passed this way before. Does God even know what’ll happen next? Time, space, emotions… Even if I knew, would it matter?

A bubble floated by. And vanished.

Where did that come from? Was it real? Am I?

Walking toward the town, Charlie looked for a sign to tell him what the town was called.

Maybe not ‘welcome,’ but how about where? Again, nothing.

He sensed his disorientation went deeper than mere geographical ignorance. Charlie pondered his surroundings and how he got there.

Wander out of a forest, follow a river far enough, and one is bound to happen upon a village or signs of civilization. But having arrived, what do you know? Inside your head, where are you?

He stopped and spun on his heel.

So, once I have my geographical coordinates, longitude, latitude… time, space, and attitude… then what? Apart from being a dot on my GPS, what do I actually know?

Some facts, maybe… but what do I actually know? A compass indicates due north… Okay, so, I’m south of the North Pole… Don’t need a weatherman…

This train of thought had Charlie on board and out of the station, full steam ahead. Each step brought new questions and less assurance of anything.

Charlie had no idea where he was not anxious. He realized he could feel at peace anywhere. Or nowhere.

The town got closer. A gas station promised to fill innumerable gaps in his knowledge. He looked at the newspapers in the rack. The masthead read, ‘Same Old News, you know it’s true…’ big and bold. There was no publication date.

Is this a joke?

He entered and made a beeline to the cooler at the back. He bypassed rows of beer to get something merely cold and wet. Not waiting to buy, it he gulped it down in one breath.

What the hell did I do last night?

Behind the counter, the proprietor sat staring at the newspaper.

Charlie asked, “Where am I?” He set the empty drink container on the counter.

Looking up from his paper, the man said, “Littleton.”

Apt. Never heard of it.

“Buying gas?”

“No. I’m on foot. Getting my bearings.”

The man pointed. “Town’s that away.”

Charlie nodded, paid for the drink and left.

And I thought I was lost…

The term ‘hospital psychosis’ came to mind. A patient might return to their home, only to feel disoriented. Their own home of years might appear fake, the result of an elaborate ruse. They believe others are fooled, but they know better.

Is our hold on reality so tenuous…? That’s not my deal here. Nothing looks false. It’s not familiar at all.

The business district of the town ran a full block down a two-lane street. More fields lay could be seen beyond the far end of the town.

There were people around, but Charlie didn’t know them. Three men entered a café. Feeling starved, he followed.

Someone nodded to him.

Who do they think they know?

Charlie went to the restroom and rinsed his face. The room was clean. A good sign. Looking in the mirror, it took a moment to recognize himself. He checked his wallet.

Got to have cash.

He had enough cash to eat. His ID was intact. The picture looked like him, more or less. The address was not familiar.

He needed a shower.

Shaking his head, he returned to the dining area and sat at the counter. Someone left a newspaper. He scanned the front page.

No news is good news... Wait. Does that mean all news is bad…?

The waitress approached. Charlie ordered coffee and picked up a menu.

She said, “You’re late. Your friends were here earlier.”

Looking at her, Charlie cocked his head. “Lisa?”

“Well, duh… Where’ve you been? Look like you slept in a tree.”

“Uhm…”

“The guys waited. Said you’d had a toot.”

“You might say that. Or a snout full.”

“Or a snoot? Sounds like it was a snootiful night. They said… Don’t think I’ll remember right... They laughed a lot. Said you won the bet?”

Charlie looked at her blankly. “Bet?”

“Yeah. They said they’d never expected to pay up because anyone who drank that much would never collect.”

Charlie leaned back. “Ahhh…” Now it was coming back.

What do you do with friends like that?

They looked at each other. She hadn’t heard his thought.

She turned away.

Lisa brought his coffee. “Here you go, kid. Anything else?”

He tested her. “I’ll have the usual.” He watched her reaction.

“Scrambled, muffin, hash browns?”

“That’s it.”

“Some things never change.”

She brought his food. He ate. It was good… As usual.

Lisa brought the check. Charlie pulled some bills out and laid them over it. She collected it and brought him change.

He gave her a good tip. She smiled at him.

At last, Charlie knew where he was.

Home.