A short tale of fear and humiliation, leaving questions about hope and possibility. |
I. My Daddy used to say that people are pretty much good, but turn bad when they feel boxed in by something. "People are like animals, Tommy," he said. "They don’t like to feel like they can’t choose, like they live in a cage at the zoo." I guess that makes sense to me—but not until lately. First I was confused—the kids at school weren’t in cages, and they make choices all the time, but they were still mean. II. I approached so slowly the tree walked up to me instead. "Even I’ve only got a limited time, kid." And there it was, a hurdle higher than the Grand Canyon to the river below. I was breathless, though I’d hardly moved. "Climb it," they screamed, birds cackling around the wormhole, satisfied, knowing they’ll eat. "You can’t do anything," they cawed. "Can’t run, can’t jump, can’t even shower after gym. But sure, you can climb that tree." Yet again, my mouth ahead of my body. It’s an arm thing, I’d thought. Legs just drag. No problem. I’d forgotten the last workout my arms had had was lifting a Guys potato chip bag to my lap, remote control resting comfortably in my chair clip. I nervously flicked at the brake on the chair. Click. Clack. Click. Could hear mama screaming, "You are making me crazy with that noise." Back and forth, ocean waves, teasing, hesitant about wrecking the beach, but eventually do, laughing, as dozing ladies are startled by water at their feet, thighs, rear ends. I’m up. Arm having grabbed a low branch the tree sent down in his impatience. "Don’t fall now, kid," one of them says with real concern, imagining having to put a cripple back in his chair. Here for entertainment, not for touching, learning that legs can be useless bars of lead. Hanging. Needing a leg to place there, just there, but, drop. Collapsing into the dirt, the tree straightens up before me, his one nod of compassion offered, he is ready to resume his day. "Yeah, well," the nervous one said, "wouldn’t set your hopes on being a fireman. May have a cat up a tree one day." Arms under my pits, lifting. The tree, walking away. |