two trees

(appeared in runningoutofink.com 7/6/2013) )

They said it could never work. An oak and an elm.

Gary had heard rustlings of the hedonism that goes on in the forest but that type of stuff never interested him. Though the winds kicked up from time to time and caused him a bit of concern, he enjoyed life on the outskirts away from the crowd and free to soak up as much sun as he wanted.

And there was always Denise.

Since he was a sapling she had been there with him. He can still remember the first time the wind blew his branches into contact with hers.

What went on beneath the ground was even more delicious.

Let the shrubs say what they want, the two of them made a great couple.

Then came the great argument of ’06.

He had suggested how wonderful it would be, when the time finally came, to topple nobly to the ground and be absorbed back into the earth.

She countered that rotting was no way to go. She preferred that she be cut down and used as fuel for some great roaring fire.

It got out of hand after that. Harsh words were exchanged and ever since, there has been an icy silence between the two of them, highlighted by the occasional storm where their branches would whip against each other and make things particularly awkward. You might think that the oak said something about the elm not being able to support a tire swing but that just shows how little you think like a tree.

Together they had seen their little patch of land get transformed into a sleepy little suburban development. Manicured lawns had replaced the wild tangle of grasses and flowers and most of the shrubs that had originally taken up residence had died and been replaced by foreign ones with funny accents. The nearby woods had remained and they could see their brethren clustered together in the distance like a Bob Ross painting.

Gary towered over Denise but she had insisted that size didn’t matter. A tree is a tree. Gary wondered to himself how she could be so open-minded on some matters and pigheaded on others. Getting chopped up and burned is all well and good if you’re truly dead but didn’t she worry that she might still be able to feel?  Didn’t she have some small doubt that she’d end up in a fireplace screaming her head off as the flames consumed her? How could she be so certain?

Better to fall over and rest comfortably, he thought.

“Lay there getting eaten by termites and rodents is better?” she had asked back in ’06. It was her opinion that if Gary thought squirrels and woodpeckers were annoying, he would go crazy the first time a colony of ants decided to set up shop in his corpse. She was fully in the “better to go quickly” camp.

He wondered now if that had anything to do with lifespan.

He could expect to live 500 or 600 hundred years. Denise, at best, would be with him 100.

He had been such a fool. As if on cue the wind kicked up and his long limbs reached over and enveloped her in an embrace.

“Sorry.”

You’d think, being a human, that they would both want to carve their initials into some kids to note the reconciliation but they didn’t. The thought never even occurred to them. You suck at thinking like a tree.

They said it could never work. An oak and an elm.