Bookmark #237

When things are a bit too much, when the rains are too wet, when the sun is too harsh, when the days are too painful, when the coffee is too bitter, when the booze is too strong, when life is too hard, we often make odd claims.

So, on a random evening a couple of months ago, when things were a bit too much, I said there were no trees in the neighbourhood, and that was the root of all my problems. It was an odd claim, perhaps, the oddest of claims to make when you lived in the valley.

In any case, there were no trees anywhere. You started walking from dirt and you stopped in the dirt. The traffic, the cacophony, the daily annoyances were peppered in-between, waiting to grab you by your collar and drag you into the very dirt you were walking on.

The trees, if there were any, were too far away in the hills. The city was drab and dreary and dusty, and it was all a bit too much. So, when I made that claim, I was within my rights. It was a terrible place to be in, even if it was all in my head.

Today, I went outside for a quick evening walk. I wanted to get a cup of coffee and none of my friends were around so I went on my own. About a couple of minutes in, I looked up and saw the sky, but then, I saw a tree. I remembered my obnoxious claim about there not being any from months ago.

So, I began counting. By the time I reached the coffee shop, I was at sixty-seven. I’m sure I lost count and made mistakes while counting. And of course, the trees didn’t grow over the summer.

Where then, one might ask, did the trees come from?

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here