I’m afraid you’re dying
Yes. I know. I’m too old, too heavy to lie here like this.
I wish there was something I could do. I don’t want to lose you.
My time has come. There’s nothing to be done. I’ve had a good life and seen many wonderful things.
Tell me. What kind of things.
So many wonderful things.
When the road was all dirt, the sunrises, sunsets, and stars of such magnitude. So many animals have made their home on me, and under me. When the heat came, they took refuge in my shade. When the cold came my bones kept the earth warm. My leaves lined the nests of many animals. The seeds I produced kept them fat. The old man had cows, horses, donkeys. The cows would rub against my skin to keep theirs clean and the horses and donkeys would sing to me at night. When the spring dew came, my leaves would sparkle in the morning sun like so many diamonds and the old man would look out here and smile. The nights were so dark, the stars so vivid, and the earth was alive with many animals that traveled in the night. Animals that scare humans, but they were just doing what came natural to them. And the children. Lots of children that climbed into my limbs, ran around my trunk, climbed to the top and back down again. When the children were around, laughing and climbing, I felt so strong, so important, such a part of the earth. My roots would cling a little tighter and my limbs would brace up. My, that was such a great feeling to be full of little ones with their happy voices and fearless ways. As I got older, my bones would dry and fall and the old man used them to keep his family warm. Yes. My life was good.
Where do they go?
Where does what go?
The memories. Where do they go when we are no longer here to remember them? Do they die with me?
I will keep them.
Who did this to me?
Helene.
Helene. Bitch. What do these storms know? They have no roots, no soul, only sound and fury and they are so short lived. They leave behind only brokenness and misery in their path. When the rains came my roots kept the earth in place and it was like that for many years. Yet this storm was too much for me. I feel defeated.
How much longer do I have?
Not much.
Do not let all of my bones go into the fire.
Perhaps I could make something from them?
Yes. I would like that.
My time has come. Make your final cut straight and true.
I will do my best.
~ John
