I stood in the field, looking at that ancient tree. Figured that thing must be at least 1000 years old. One hell of a lot older than the country. That tree had been there when the American Indians ran things, and likely even before that.
“God willing, and with a little luck, here’s hoping us humans don’t cut you down, and turn you into firewood, or pencils, or anything else.”
I’d frequently stared at that tree, and wondered what all it had seen in its life. Certainly, it had seen the rise and fall of more than one civilization made by us humans.
“I’m betting you’ve been around long enough to learn how to not repeat history.” I sighed, and placed a hand on that tree’s trunk. “Unlike us stupid humans. We only live so long. And then we die, and take all our experience, and knowledge with us, and our children repeat the same mistakes we made, endlessly.”
There was a breeze from the south east. A hot, sticky, human breeze, the kind you get in the summer. Those breezes had gotten hotter, and stickier, in my lifetime. Still resting a hand on that tree, “We’re killing everything, you know. And pretending we’re not.”
It was true. We were destroying everything. In search of money, power, wealth, material possessions. Everyone had to have a mansion, with half a dozen rooms they never set foot in. And a three row SUV, or a truck that could haul 20 or 30 bags of concrete, even though not one bag of concrete ever got put in the truck’s bed.
It was sad, what we’d done to the world God gave us. And the tree had seen us do all of it. It had been around when the breeze from the south east had been cool, and refreshing, and pulled up the clean air from the Gulf. Not anymore. We’d fixed that. It was not a hot, sticky, steam bath that floated in off the Gulf, and forced everyone inside into their air conditioned homes.
“And all we can fight about, all we can argue over, is politics, and who is right, the Left or the Right.” I sat down next to the tree, in the hot sticky breeze. “Doesn’t matter if both sides are wrong, as long as the side I’m on wins, that’s how we fight.” I wondered if the tree understood anything I was saying. “We get so busy fighting, so twisted around ourselves, we forget everything we’ve learned. We forget everything at all. Except keeping what we have. And getting more of what we want.”
Sometimes, I wished that tree could talk, and tell me what it had seen, what it knew.
“Maybe you’ll still be here when this is over, and we’ve killed everything, including ourselves.”
465 words
@mysoulstears
Written in response to the prompt for week 154 of Miranda Kate‘s Mid-Week Challenge. You can learn about Miranda’s challenge here. The stories people share for the weekly challenge are always little works of art, crafted with words, meant to be shared, and enjoyed. Please go read them all.
My Soul's Tears 