Down the Rabbit Hole

Leaves Me Longing

The tree that we planted is nearly as wide across as my arm now. It still leans to the left and in even in a slight wind, bends precariously far, the wispy trails of its branches kissing the ground. It is a wonder that it made it through that first winter, standing stubbornly against the snow and ice. I took my lunch there the other day and watched the afternoon sun shining through the delicate green leaves. In that space, with the breeze rolling in off the surf and the smells of summer floating in the air around me, it seemed easy to forgive you. Then I remembered. I remembered when I first heard about what you had done, I had dropped everything and rushed to this hillside. I had wanted to tear the root ball free from the earth, rip it to pieces in my hands and toss the little tree into the churning sea below. It had seemed an appropriate revenge, to destroy even just one thing you had created, one thing you had cherished and cared for. I had flung myself free of the car and into the rainstorm. I had ran barefoot through the soggy grass only to fall on my knees at the base of the pathetically frail little tree. In my mind, I saw how carefully you had eased the sapling free from its plastic pot with hands that seemed impossibly large. You placed it into the dark hole in the ground, maneuvering your large frame around on your knees, gently packing down the dirt into the spaces. You watched over my shoulder as I watered it, concerned I might give it too much. I reached out then and fingered the delicate buds that would soon become leaves. You would not have the chance to see them. You had denied yourself even that most simple of pleasures. I loathed you but my grief was a sudden, crushing weight on my heart. I told myself I would not cry for you, yet the tears had come, unstoppable. I had stayed like that for a long time, crying away my rage and pain. I left the little tree unscathed that day and had returned nearly every one since to nurture it. I hope that it grows strong and broad, that boughs lengthen and the bark becomes a sturdy armor against the elements. I hope that one day I can sit in its shade and think of only good memories, reflect on your life and not just your final, desparate act. I hope that one day I will come here to sit and as I stare up through the branches at the brilliant blue sky, I will at last find forgiveness.