Trees

Slowly, the woman arose from her bed, rubbing the sleep from her swollen eyes. No time to dawdle and her steps from her bed to bathroom were as quick as she can make them be. Each movement is planned. Every breath is noted. Everything is a task, from washing her hands to brushing her long silver hair. She thanked the Goddesses above, however, that she was still able to do even the most mundane things related to living. She remembered it was Halloween and the little ones would be by, dressed up in the cutest costumes ringing her doorbell! This year she would leave the the light off.

She placed the cold cup of coffee from yesterday's pot into the microwave and added the last dollop of creamer which was her first boost of calorie intake since the evening prior. It will get her to where she needs to go. 

The microwave dings and her coffee is hot. She sips it before she places another footstep towards the far cupboard where the cans of cat food are stored. Her cats are relentless and demanding but their loud meows for food do nothing but make the old woman happy as it reminds her that she has someone to take care of and two furry lives that depends on her. The bigger cat becomes quiet and patiently looks lovingly up at her master, confident that a treat is in store for her.

The woman's steps are short and slow but she makes it to her favorite chair in front of her computer in her darkened living room. Setting her coffee down she opens the blinds to let the sun in. Sure enough, just as she had thought, the squall and cold front from the night before has signaled the trees to start their winter slumber. Their leaves are just starting to turn gold, as if the trees were shutting their eyes for their journey into another season. The woman didn't mind winter at all. She had fond memories for most of her life of being warm and content even in the most violent of storms. She likened herself to the ancient trees outside. She believed that even trees had souls. They had done their part in life, just as she had, even though trees were perfect. They never made mistakes. She had made several....

The old woman sat down by her computer and took a sip of her coffee, looking at the trees, hoping their souls would help her down memory lane. She was remembering back in her youth and trying to discern when her first mistake had been. She thought if she could list all of her mistakes in her life on a piece of paper that maybe she could forgive herself. A sort of a last cleansing of her soul before she died. Oh this was going to be one long list. Some mistakes were going to be easy to forgive and some would be monumentally hard. Yes.....the trees were helping. 

She began with her first memories of her playing in the backyard of her home. The trees were young. It had been her parents first home and purchased for around $5,000 back in the day. They would later sell it for about $12,000 thinking they had made a decent nest egg, only to find out that a year later that same house sold for over $50,000 to a contractor that built a mall on the property. The house that had filled with her first happy memories of childhood was now a furniture store. The trees long gone. 

In those days children played happily outside with no worries of monsters other than the ones they made up in their heads for play. Playtime did not include much more than their imaginations. A fallen branch from a tree could be a gun to fight a war,  a horse to ride and care for or a wizard's wand to bring magic and stars or change brothers into cows. The old woman smiled at these memories. They were her happiest times of all. The innocence of childhood, the discoveries, the learning and it was all hands on for children then as they didn't have the internet to look things up on. She had learned about her world by touching, smelling, tasting and listening and reading. 

Suddenly she could remember the smell of leaves burning in her neighbors trash can next door. She could hear her brother and his friends laughter, toads croaking, crickets chirping, her mothers holler for them to come in and wash up for dinner. The old woman was a little girl again in mud caked dungarees with a snail in her pocket and a toad in her hand as she walked into the house to proudly show her mother what she had found. "Eeek!" Her mother would scream but with a smile on her sweet face quickly finding a shoe box for her daughters prize. Toads don't do well in a closed shoe box. The old woman's memories seemed real now.....

She woke up early that Monday morning by the sounds of her mother yelling goodbye to her brother as he tramped off to school. She was so jealous of him being old enough to go to school. He was four years older than her and even though he was only 8, he could do everything. He was old enough to walk to school, watch the shows that came on after The Red Skelton show and even got to see "The Blob" with his friends at the movies. She was always "too little" as her mother put it and so she wished with all her might that she was "bigger" like her brother. 

As she rubbed the sleepy sand out of her eyes she noticed a sickening smell. It was overwhelming and made her stomach churn. Her acute sense of smell led her to her closet where there, still laying where she had put it four days ago, was the shoe box. She had never experienced a death or anything dying other than the snails that she had watched recoil and foam from the salt her brother had put on them or the ants as they abruptly curled up in smoke as her brother aimed his magnifying glass on them and let that magic beam of light from the sun burn them alive. She had snuck that magnifying glass out of his room once, not to burn things, but to look at the butterflies up close on her mother's flowers outside. He had become so angry with her when he found out that she had been in his room. She had gotten in trouble and was sent to her room for an hour. She didn't care. Her room was her castle. It was her school room, her kitchen to make clay pies and exotic cakes and pastries and to play with her plastic horses for hours on end. Her imagination could take her to places only she dreamed of. Now it smelled of death and she was gagging as she removed the lid to the box. 

Her brother came home from school and found her crying over the dead toad in the box. He felt bad and told her, "I'll take you to the graveyard, over by my friend's house and I'll help you bury it there, She, gulped and managed to blurt out "Ok," while following him to the shed to find a small shovel. He carefully wrapped up the box in pretty wrapping paper that was stored there for next Christmas. He did it to make his sister smile, but also to make the horrible smell go away.  It was, after all, Halloween and he was old enough to go trick or treating with his friends, alone. Maybe this would appease her so she wouldn't cry as he left later on.

They ran to the graveyard as it was getting dark. They snuck under the iron gate, and her brother began to dig a hole, when they heard a moan. It sounded like it was coming from a nearby Sycamore tree. A tree that was older then the 100 year old graveyard and at least 43 meters tall.  

"That tree just moaned!" Her brother whispered. He walked over to see what was making the sound...tree branches rubbing together possibly? He had no fear but she couldn't move. She was frozen with fright. She didn't want her brother to go near that tree. She tried to warn him but couldn't get one sound out. He disappeared in the shadows behind the tree. She finally let out a frail scream. "Don't go there! Let's go!  I'll just leave the frog here in the box, we don't need to bury it, I WANT TO GO HOME NOW!" She wanted to go find him, but could not make her little legs move. She laid down, covering her eyes. She eventually fell asleep.  

Her brother was never found. She was bereft. It was her fault. She felt that guilt all the rest of her life.  

The old woman awoke with a start. She had fallen asleep in her chair and had a nasty crick in her neck now. She adjusted her eyes to the dark...had she slept all day? She looked out of her window, still with dream remnants floating around in her mind. There, by the tree, was a small boy, holding a cardboard shoe box in one hand and a shovel in the other. He was looking at her. He beckoned to her.  

She was suddenly outside...walking with her cane towards the boy. She couldn't remember walking all this way. She felt no pain. She dropped her cane and continued to walk. She felt light, young. She reached the boy. She extended her hand and then saw his face. It was her brother and he looked just like he did in the graveyard that day. He took her hand in his after giving her the box. They walked towards the tree. It welcomed her. She felt it's embrace. She was going back to where she came from.