Trees

Carl was an old, gray man. The wrinkles on his face told the story of the many struggles he'd lived through. Each seemed to jut out from his bones and curl back under the next in what must have been quite a process of gathering. His hands also shared a tale of work. Not the kind of work that gets you on the cover of some magazine, but the kind that few people ever know - the kind that takes time to gain any sort of momentum. He was one of those rough-around-the-edges types. The kind that, if you're new to the area and you need to ask for directions, you'd probably look beyond Carl and find someone else.

His attire was almost as worn as the calluses on his hands; the stitching on his overcoat seemed to be hanging on by nothing more than habit. Whenever he went out, he carried with him only a few items. Naturally, he'd lug along his wallet with his ID and some cash. No cell phone, though. He had no use for those 'boxes of wasted time' as he often referred to them. The only other thing Carl ever had on his person was a tattered, worn-out plastic bag with a handful of seeds in it. They were from a Silver Linden tree that once stood outside his childhood home.

The Silver Linden he was seemingly raised with had long since died and been removed, but he carried the seeds as a reminder of what once was. His family, the McKinneys originally from Scotland, had moved to New York sometime in the 1920's, having heard of the success of the times and wanting more than just what was offered on the farmlands of Great Britain. Carl's father Alastair was a man of few words, and that nature eventually made its way into Carl's personality. Despite Alastair's harsh approach to life and interactions, he was certainly always a believer in regimented church attendance and involvement in Christian community. The entire family - all four sons and both daughters - was brought up to have a fear and reverence for the Almighty, and their many hours spent in the pews at their local Episcopal parish proved good in their upbringing.

Every morning, Carl and the rest of his siblings awakened to the aroma of an array of breakfast items that would certainly put any modern hotel's spread to shame. Mrs. McKinney was a formidable force in the family kitchen, and her favorite arena to display her talents was at the breakfast table each morning. And so, as it was, Carl left for school every day with a full stomach and a bright smile on his freshly-wiped face.

It was at this point each school day that Carl would pass the Silver Linden. Every morning on the way and each afternoon on the way back, Carl would pass by the tree. It never failed - he would always take just a half-second to admire nature's handiwork as he, day by day, would quietly monitor the tree's progress. Taking note of each and every new leaf, twig, and branch, Carl made it his mission to grow faster and taller than this tree ever could. Naturally, the tree always won, but Carl never held a grudge.  

Through his teenage years, Carl began to spend more and more time at his various jobs, working hard at saving up the money he'd need to become who he always thought his father wanted him to be. One day Carl decided to move away and took a job that paid a bit more than any available near Queens. He missed home a lot of the time, but no matter where he went or what he did, he always knew that when he came back to his father's house, the Silver Linden would be there to greet him.

One day, Carl received a telegraph from his mother. His father was not well. He’d been outside all night trying to repair a faulty hose on the family car and caught pneumonia. Carl put everything on hold and made his way home. He went immediately to the hospital, only to find his mother, brothers, and sisters all gathered in the waiting room, together crying in one collective sound that shook Carl down to his core.  

Surely this couldn't be the end. Surely he hadn't missed his father's last breath, his last words, his last glance. The man that raised Carl under the banner of faith, family, and hard work was gone. He was no longer available for counsel, no longer available for the guidance that had taken Carl so long to finally admit he needed in life. Just like that, he was gone.

Carl left the hospital and walked through the bitter cold all the way back to this now-empty childhood home. The miles didn't bother him, nor did the temperature. He just needed to get home; it was the only place he knew he could find rest. As he turned the last corner and set foot on his old street, he was stopped in his tracks by a view for which he was not prepared.  

There, next to his father's house, was a brand new construction site. All kinds of bright colors and signage adorned the new brick building. It sat directly on top of where his Silver Linden had been for so long. The tears began. The slow walk toward the house seemed to take forever. He eventually arrived at the threshold, stopped, took a deep breath, and looked to the left at the edge of the construction site where his tree had been. Pain gripped him, and there was nothing he wanted more than to see his father just one more time. If he couldn't have that, he thought, he just wanted to see his old friend, the Silver Linden. Neither was a reality now.  

Days passed, and Carl mourned. He finally gathered the composure to get back to work. Before he could do that, however, he needed something to help remind him of what it was like before sadness entered his life that cold night. He settled on a bag of Silver Linden seeds, seeing them as a reminder of both his childhood friend and his father, who had raised him in its ever-present, steady shadow for years.

Time dragged on before Carl ever had any desire to head home to Queens. Simply put, there were just too many painful reminders of the past to justify the trip. Days turned to weeks, weeks passed by and became months, the months lengthened, and it was nearly 27 years later that he finally got a call from one of his younger brothers that he needed to come home.  His mother had passed away the night before.

Setting the house phone back on its cradle, Carl knew he needed to be there for his brothers and sisters. As he gathered his things and prepared to make the second hardest drive of his life back home, he took stock of where his life had ended up and then shrugged off the sentiment. Sitting in the car and waiting for the engine to warm up, he felt the cold from the car seats creep through his worn clothing and into his legs. He'd had enough of the cold. He began to pull out of his driveway when he realized he'd forgotten one thing essential to his journey back home - his bag of seeds. Carl shuffled back inside and grabbed them off of his kitchen counter - the place they always sat when he was home - and returned to his car. On to Queens to see that house, that place that was once such a bright memory.

The scene hadn't changed from nearly three decades before. He pulled up along the curb in front of the house, put the car in park, and shut the engine off. He looked out the windshield, up, up, and up to the top of that horrible edifice that took the place of his favorite tree. He did notice, though, something that he hadn't seen before. whatever company owned the building had taken the liberty of leaving a small, bricked off garden space with some new soil in it. No plants, though. Just soil. "Shame they couldn't even have the decency to actually plant anything," Carl thought to himself as he grabbed his things and got out of his car.

It was the dead of winter at that time, and while the highways and surface streets were all cleared of any ice and snow, it was up to homeowners to clear their own walkways and driveways. Carl wasn't thinking about that as he took his first step up and onto the frozen concrete. His entire body shifted to the left and landed with punishing force on the cold ground below.  Carl's head landed squarely on the corner of the newly-placed bricks lining the soil patch at the foot of the building next door. He was knocked out, and his keys, wallet, and everything else in his hands went flying.

One of Carl's younger brothers heard the commotion outside and ran to the door, only to see the horrid scene down on the sidewalk. The ambulance was called, Carl's body was placed on a stretcher, and he was carted to the same hospital that had been the site of both his parents' final moments of life. After a few attempts to check for his vital signs, the doctors declared Carl dead on arrival.

The siblings arranged all of the details for both Carl's funeral and their mother's. Being a Scottish family, scores of relatives attended the funerals the following week as well as the gathering afterward. There were upwards of one hundred people from Nebraska, Ohio, Kentucky, and many other nearby states. All the brothers and sisters, their children, and some of their children's children were present.  

One of the sibling's granddaughters, Karla, only 6 years of age, was seated in the living room and, as kids will do at such events, became restless. She decided on her own that she wanted to go outside, and she did so without her mother's permission. The moment she stepped out the door, the faintest bit of sunshine softly fell on her eyes, unobtrusive and yet all-encompassing. It invaded every crevice it could get its rays on, and Karla smiled in response to the warmth. She took a few steps down to the sidewalk, not knowing the sad events of just a few days prior. She looked one way down the street, then the other. After standing only a few moments in the cold and enjoying the rare light that greeted her, she heard her name from inside and knew she was in danger of restriction if she didn't go back at once. Karla turned to climb the slippery stairs and, as she took her first step back into the home, something in the small dirt patch in front of the towering building next door caught her eye.

There, in the midst of the cold and the wind and the noise of the city, she saw something peeking through the soil. She inched closer to try and catch a better glimpse. It was vibrant, almost glowing, fresh and green, containing the promise of something new.

It was a Silver Linden.