Chapter 2

She liked trees, she only realised it when she lost that one and then realised how many trees she had lost in her life. There was one in her backyard, not a good climbing one, but you could sit in its grove almost comfortably. She was surprised one day when she remembered that there had once been a loved tree in the now empty spot. The tree had been replaced with two grevilleas which she had watched grow over the years. She remembered them so small and weak but then they grew taller than her despite her growing. She had stood there and thought ‘one day these will be big’ and then they got big. First one had died and then the other and now as she looks out it’s got a tiny stick of a frangipani tree in the middle. There was a frangipani tree out front, the best climbing tree on the property and good for playing all manner of games. There were two spots which were the ideal spots, one easily reached from the front porch. Though that tree was still there she had lost that one too. She had only realised it that day, how she had lost it by not being able to fit in those spots anymore. She had lost her childhood place, her childhood, her tree. There was another tree across the road, taller than the power lines and when it became windy she liked to watch the branches dance. That one had gone too. One day she had walked into her street and found the tree at the top gone and she realised how open it all was; empty too.

She could see far too much sky these days and she was waiting for the day when she couldn’t see anything but it.

One day, some years ago she had looked up at the sky and felt like it was closing in. It was like she was in a bubble, the sky a dome over her head and she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to break through that layer out, out where she could be free. Not long later she stumbled across a word; firmament. She would’ve preferred to think her idea of the sky was new, so it had less chance of being true. In the end, she just turned her head back to the ground and forgot about it. Every now and then it would pop to her head but she’d just look up and remember it was too hard to stress about because there wasn’t an answer.

So now, she’s just started and her mind is tumbling, but then she’s realised she doesn’t want to go into that. She is in fact, or does not want to be, that person anymore and so it’s time to stop. No more tumbling, or twisting, or any of that, or no more talk of it at least. Some years ago she realised she was proud of it; it made her different and if anyone knew they would pay attention to her and feel pity. It took her awhile to get so fed up with it that the pride of it wasn’t worth it. The she had an ounce of sense and it was gone. It was so easy, so horrifically easy that if she wasn’t so happy that it was gone she would have been annoyed. But that was in the past already, though really there’s something else now but it’s not big enough yet to be worth remembering.

She’s realised that it’s been almost a year since something else started, perhaps more than a year. It means its been a year that she’s been trying to get rid of it but she just can’t. She doesn’t know how. It’s been a year and she still doesn’t know how. It’s troublesome but she looks ahead.

Today, the day after she started she noticed the tree with the red flowers again. The sky was clear, but it was becoming night so it stood out. It was beautiful, but it pained her. Not long after the tree came done she had forgotten what it had looked like with it. It’s funny how quickly the memory goes and the new comes in. What is make her remember that there was a tree there is the red-flowered tree. When she sees it the sadness of what’s missing will spark in her mind and she’ll recall the tree. It’s a marker, a beautiful thing which saddens her but keeps her memories alive.