A Tree
It was a tree like any other tree. Pine green. Ever green. Envy green. Some kinda green.What do I know? I'm from a city where Palm is the tree of the sunny day and everything else comes in picture books. Pretty parts of sceneries we can’t touch.
This tree was no Palm, though. I do know that.
When it fell, it fell as I imagine all trees fall, and all men and women who fall before them – with a cranky-quiet creak, a small subtle giving, and a forget. It was there; now it wasn't. No one would really truly remember the tree that once stood, just as no one would really truly remember the fallen who’d once stood in its shade.
Maybe that's why I kicked it over. To see if it'd make a sound other than silence. To see if I might make it a remember, make me remember. To see if a fall really, truly makes any difference at all.
And like countless other falls before this one, it made no difference whatsoever. Sure there was the momentary disruption into the planetary order of things, but the overall effect was naught. A whisper amid a clack of chatter. Not even.
So now I know. As another Christmas hurt comes and goes, as I brace for another New Year of next last chances, the past has passed, and what counts – what'll be heard – is what's still to come.
May it come too to You, and Yours, this day and always.
Happy Merry and Then Some.
-Hood.
