Conversation with a Tree

Ten minutes after midnight she stood up, took the two steps to the door and walked out onto the moonlit street.

On the concrete, her feet felt firmer, safer. She began to walk, her long strides eating up the ground. Her feet were bare, the skin of the soles soft and unblemished. The harsh ground cut into them, but she walked on, the pain left behind her.

As she reached the edge of the city, the evening began to close in around her. The winds picked up, whipping around her slim form. Her light cotton dress was drawn tight around her slender form, her hair blown back from her face. She walked on, oblivious to the cold.

Road turned to track, track turned to path. Path turned to grass.

Her feet welcomed the change in landscape. They embraced the cushion of grass beneath them, burrowed between the fronds in search of the dark earth beneath.

She walked on.

The fields gave way to pasture, to rough grazing and stone walls crumbling into the grass. Mountains rose up into the horizon, stabbing the night sky above them. The stars were brighter here, away from the towns, the cities, the people.

She picked up her feet and began to run. Her feet found their own way, remembering old paths, old steps. Her eyes never left the sky ahead of her, the clear cut line of the horizon, the sharp outlines of every rock. Her body remembered the way back, even if her mind did not.

She ran over field and field, her breath catching in her throat, her chest laced with pain, her stomach twisting and stabbing with nausea. Her eyes were dry from the cold air, her lips tight and stretched. Her dress caught on stone and bark, until the flimsy fabric was ripped into ribbons. She left a trail of threads behind her, caught on every branch, on every gate, as though she were a child in a fairy tale.

Reaching the river, she didn’t stop, but plunged in. the waters swirled benevolently around her ankles, brushing away the sweat dripping down her legs. The river was shallow here, the water barely reaching her scratched knees as she strode across, her feet slipping on the wet rock.

Morning was stretching across the horizon when she reached the hollow. Here, she was sheltered from the wind, the air still and calm. Trees rose up around the hollow, sheltering it from questing eyes. The grass grew thick and lush here, studded with wildflowers. The shades of dawn painted it with white and silver, gilded the edge of leaves with gold.

Here, her feet stumbling, entangled in the long grass, she let herself collapse amongst the flowers. Her back was cushioned in the grass, her fingers caressing the earth beneath her. Her body remembered every contour of the ground.

As dusk fell, they found her, cross legged amongst the wildflowers, deep in conversation with a tree.