Friends and Forever

You can see her in the distance, perched on a branch--feet dangling to and fro when the crack of the rising sun commences. You can still see her slight figure when the sun cowardly sinks into its daily game of hiding. 

She comes into the house with shoes full of leaves. She says it’s to keep the tree always near her. I say it’s only for spite because as she stated yesterday, “I don’t give her enough freedom”. 

She’s loved that useless, big piece of bark the way I wish I loved her father. He’s not here now-he’s gone--gone like that rascal of a child is now, up to nothing but mischief in that old hunk of bark.

She writes poems about that tree, sings about that tree, darn! She lives for that tree!

Ask me why she loves that piece of nothing, I won’t be able to tell you a single accurate answer. I Have asked her on numerous occasions and every time she rewards me with a different answer.

The first time:

“I like it because it’s the only place I can be alone in my head”

The second time:

“It reminds me of papa”

The third time: 

“I can see everything from there”

At this point, I've given up trying.

--

She sits next to me during dinner tapping those wretched green streaked shoes on my polished linoleum as she swiftly scoops spoons of rice messily into her greedy mouth. Once she finishes she asks:

 “Can I go play in my tree?”

I say no.

Crystal tears stain her rosy cheeks. 

“I hate you” she screams as she stomps into her room full of leaves; undismissed.

I know she does.

--

She comes in with dirt clinging to her pale arms, hands, and fingers. Her green eyes are shiny-clear as she hands me an open letter.

“Mommy, do we have to leave home?”

She’s honest, unblossomed, innocent, and even more childlike than her 11 years. Her eyes are as wide as my silver spoons; they are covered in fear. Her hands shake and then she's all vibration and all kinds of anxiety. She’s all angst and fear. She’s the epitome of anxiety and I--I don't know what to say, but words roll off my tongue and suddenly, I’d do anything to protect my baby girl…

“ No honey, Mommy will figure it out, okay?”

A week passes by languorously. I go to work, fill out sheets, speak, receive calls, answer calls, repeat. The money still isn’t enough.

  She doesn't go up to her tree in the playground across the street. I can see her silhouette on the couch gazing at the cracks on the ceiling. Her eyes no longer have the glow of youth and play nor the excitement of getting dirty every day.

I ask her if she is okay

she says no.

I know she hates me.

--

We’re evicted from our home. I couldn't pay the bills on my own since her dad left us. It was a battle each time I sat at the round table in the kitchen trying to make ends meet. 

We have a week, and I pack and we move into my mother's small flat; she is welcoming but there is no tree for my baby to climb and there is no joy in her eyes. Her green eyes quickly become pools of water and one small splash will make them overflow out of their unstable container.

 She asks if she can go play at her tree.

I say yes.

She brings a Knife.

I go with her.

 I strain my neck to view long limbs of mighty, dark brown branches that are decorated with an amenity of green leaves. Its beaconing branches and deep roots call her and she etches into the bark

 love Cherry 

2010-2021

She had many memories with that tree and it’s hard to bid ado and after she says goodbye, we leave.

We leave our home.

****

The air tastes sour and the clouds outside are grey. This train moves and leaves green things behind. I strain my neck backward, forcing myself to see what had once passed before my sight. In this trance of mine, I view the ancestral arms of stoic wood and bark connected to its massive trunk. The trees beaconing branches and deep roots ring familiar to me in contrast to this unfamiliar place. Like seconds, this scene passes, and incomes another, another, and another…

A girl is crying to her mother.

A boy is picking a fight with his brother.

A mother soothes a crying baby, cooing softly to it, whilst holding the living, breathing, and noisy creature snug against her chest.

 Someone's eyes feel heavy like bricks and someone's head craning position starts to recede into a slouched one. This same someone’s head is now drooping and soon enough this someone is snoring, and this someone has a dream and that someone is me and this was my dream:

A girl sat, tucked, with crystal tears drip-drip-dripping down her rosy cheeks and round runny nose. Long branches of a mighty oak tree cascaded down as to shade her from the unforgiving heat. She was crying because her Danny--yes, her “faithful” Danny, (as she called him) had left her for his other boys and she was devastated because Danny was her best friend, and OH-what would she do without him? He indifferently said to her cries of reconsideration,

 “Sorry Sal, but I am tired of playing with you always.” 

You see-- he chose them over her and she was never going to get over it. Not ever.

 ¨Oh- Danny, how could you?” she moaned 

  flash

A figure loomed above her; she looked up, she saw that It was a girl. Her name was Sarah. 

“Whatsamatter Sal" ¨ The girl tilted her head as if she too was trying to figure out what the matter was.

She told her and they became friends.

flash

  They looked older, wiser, and less gullible than the children they were. They Laughed and talked incoherent nonsense under the canopy of the tree. 

Flash

Sarah’s lips formed the words “move” and Sal sat-tucked under that same tree, with crystal, tears drip-drip-dripping from her eyes down her rosy cheeks once again.

Flash

Sarah brought a pocket knife and together they etched “ BFF Sal and Sarah” onto the bark.  

--

Someone's hands lifted as to rub out the sleepiness from their dark-brown eyes and someone elongated their body in an act of stretching their rigid bones. Someone's eyes are now open and that same someone looks around and that someone is me and I see that:

The girl has stopped crying and is now leaning against her mother's shoulder-- sleeping.

The boy has stopped fighting.

The baby’s wails of frustration are no more as it lays silent, asleep and protectively tucked against the bosom of its mother.

--

  Stepping out of the train, luggage in hand, I attempt to climb out of my dreams of trees and isolation. Reaching into my vibrating pocket, I take out my phone and am greeted by the voice of my mom:

“ Are you here yet?”

I want to say I am not here because my mind is elsewhere, but I reply

“Yes, I am here."

 It confounds me how time passes by so quickly when you don’t pay it any mind. Time is relative- I don’t see it as a law of how it is always supposed to be. Time is just human-made--and like my rebel self, I simply don’t abide by it. So, when I glance at my phone screen and see that it is 2:00 pm, I am taken aback.

--

A black sedan parks in the parking lot and a woman with hair-like stretched arms of a massive tree lounged in the driver’s seat.

Her head swivels towards me as I catch her eye and I gather my things to go meet her. My steps toward her are slow. I lift my right foot and put it forward and do the same with my left.

Why do I feel so scared? She's just a woman that happens to be my mom.

“Hello Sal” 

Her mouth forms the words but I can’t hear her as my vision starts to blur

 This can’t be happening. I haven't seen her for 2 years.

“Hey Mom” 

She passes by me to put my luggage in the truck and I notice how thin she has become. 

“Ma, I can take it,” I say as I reach for the bag.

---

Mom pulls up to a park and I see that same tree from my childhood. A girl with green eyes is sitting on a branch. Her legs move to and fro and she is gazing blankly at the sky.

****

You can see her as her feet dangle from the branches of that tree. She is happy and she visits this same tree every time she can. It has been 24 hours and 365 days since we left this place that I call home.

I sit on the nearby bench and watch her as she stares blankly at the sky and for the first time in a long time, I smile.

A girl approaches her, she has black hair and dark brown eyes. She comes out of a black sedan that is beaten up and wild looking like the lugubrious woman in the driver's seat.

The girl says something that makes my baby smile.

She says:

"I used to visit this tree when I was a child. This is where I met my best friend before she left, we wrote this:

  “ BFF Sal and Sarah”

She says this as she points to the faded markings.

My baby nods and points to the writing that she made before we left our home.

It says:

  love Cherry 

2010-2021

The girl joins her on the branch and together they stare blankly at the cloudless blue sky.