I tried everything. Different settings, different angles, different distances, and even putting my hand in the picture, but I could not figure out how to get my camera to focus on anything other than the background. These next three pictures are ladybug larvae.
A Strange Tale of Change
I look out the dusty car window. My new “family” says they are taking me home, but I don’t believe them. I am practically dead already. I speak up and tell these people to take me back. Everyone shrieks and suddenly I find myself on the curb, alone. I ponder my life and when it all went wrong. It was that one fateful day in August, 2010.
I was young, beautiful, blossoming. Standing in the park day after day, I was in paradise. The beauty that surrounds me is almost surreal. Most would be miserable if put in my position, but I cannot imagine life any better. Day after day, week after week, all spent in the same solitary spot. I have one friend, and he is all I need. That is, I have one person who talks to me even though I cannot reply. The gardener. He talks, I listen. He speaks, I have no way of replying. January, February, March, April, all the same. June children come to see me, and it makes me happy to see them so full of joy now that school is out. July, the annual 4th BBQ. Finally, August, which I will soon find out will be the best, and worst, month of my life.
The gardener was telling me the usual news when he said something that surprised me. He tells me that my beauty is too wonderful to be kept locked up in this small park. Sooner than usual, the gardener leaves and doesn’t return for over a month, causing me great boredom and sadness. When he finally comes, he is holding some sort of a vial filled with an odd green liquid.
“I’ve finished it!” he exclaims. “No longer will you be confined in this tiny park!”
He tips the vial, spilling the liquid onto the dirt beneath me. “Run free,” he says, “run free young tree!” Tree? I think Is that why I am so mute and immobile? I can feel my roots lifting from the soil and transforming, followed by some of my branches turning into arms. The next thing to form is something that I have only dreamed of having, a face. Sight before this moment has always been a mystery, but through my new eyes I can see things with much greater clarity. Along with these eyes, I now have a mouth!
“Thank you,” I barely manage to whisper, “This is something I have only dreamt about.” The gardener takes of his sun hat and holds it over his heart.
“My goodness,” he says under his breath, “It works! It actually works!” I can sense his excitement as he begins to dance around. “Come home with me and see yourself,” he demands and grabs my arm. Home… this is something I have never had and have only wished to experience. Seeing this as a wonderful opportunity, I follow willingly to wherever this home may be.
Before long, I have stumbled my way, somewhat in the same manner as a baby, over to the gardener’s truck. I am told to hop on back, and I do what I am told. Moving aside a multitude of rakes, shovels, and other gardening utensils, I am able to clear a spot big enough for me to sit down. On my way to this “home”, I take the time to look down at myself. Miraculously, I am wearing a leaf-green shirt and blue jeans, though where they came from, I have no idea. My hands are covered in rough skin, about the same hue as the gardener’s. Coming into view is a brick wall that stretches, continuing on to form the house of the gardener.
I am lead inside to a mirror, where I can finally see my full self. Eyes the color of the grass I know so well, hazelnut colored hair, and a single cherry blossom tucked neatly behind my ear.
“I’m…” I stutter.
“Beautiful,” the gardener finishes. Although this may be true, it is evident that I am not human. Rough patches of skin where the bark still partially remains, and, if the sunlight hits just right, green streaks in my hair that are marks of the leaves that were once there. Sensing my discomfort and the reason for it, the gardener says, “I can fix that.” I decline, knowing that, although I am sure the new life I will soon begin will be wonderful, I would miss having this small reminder of who, or what, I used to be.
“Thanks for everything, but I must be going if I am to figure out what this life is all about,” I say.
“How true, how true,” said the gardener, “but that’s a lot like life I guess. You get somewhere only to find that you must be going again. Farewell and good luck.”
I step out the front door onto the cold, hard pavement, only to look down and realize that I’m not wearing any shoes! I know my feet will soon be freezing cold, but this fact does not bother me. I am prepared to walk as long and as far as I need to go.
Five miles later, I come across one of the scariest things I have ever seen in my life. Hundreds of trees, all cut down and stuck in sacks. An abandoned nursery. I stare at one of my own kind, a cherry tree. I am very afraid that this could have been my fate. Looking around at the other cherry trees, I begin to cry. I could have known any one of these trees! One of them could even be my sister. I begin to think why couldn’t it have been me? I find a solitary corner of the nursery and curl up to cry.
“I want to go back! I want to go back!” I cry to myself. I try to console myself, but it doesn’t work at all.
Suddenly I feel a tingling sensation and I look downwards. Waist up, nothing has changed, but below is no longer legs. I realize that the fate of those cherry trees will soon be mine when I see the sack where my legs and feet once were. Before long nothing human is left except my mouth, eyes, and nose. After what seems like forever, a car pulls up. A family of four climbs out of the car and walks in my direction.
“This one!” shouts the youngest as the mother brags to the father about how she was right about the location of the abandoned nursery.
“Good choice,” agrees the father. They pick me up and stick me in the back of their car. Everyone climbs in and we begin to drive off.
Presently, I am sitting on the curb, reminiscing about the past. It is now that I realize it that our deepest wants truly do control our destiny.
My friends all loved it, even though I thought it was just depressing. My one friend helped me think of the ending that is really deep. The thing about the wants controlling our desires. Hope you liked it!
me of them:
