Excerpt from my ex–best friend Howard’s computer journal. I couldn’t resist.

December 29, 2009

I’ve been seeking the trees.

Michelle and I found out there used to be a plum tree outside our door. The stump below the front porch is a reminder of the fruit of a healthy tree, and its absence. We were told you could walk by and grab armfuls of plums, but the landlord chopped it down.

My grandfather is in hospital. A doctor performed a tracheotomy, which has taken away his ability to speak, and because of his glaucoma, he only has his hearing and his sense of touch left and that’s been dulled by morphine.

I’ve taken it upon myself to read to him, hoping the words make up for the empty promises I gave during the years before this one. I asked Michelle about my regret and she told me that if the years were turned back and I’d done what I’d said then, I’d be a better man and maybe we’d be eating her plum pudding right now, but we’re not and I feel empty.

As I said, I’ve begun to seek out the trees. We love them when they are green and full of life. They are our roots and we owe them our lives, yet we turn our heads to the ground or see right through them when the world turns cold.

I’ve decided to spend time with them, and put my hand upon their withering bark and tell them I’m sorry, tell them what is happening will pass and reassure them that they will be green again this spring, so that in the future we can fill our arms with the fidelity of trees

If you read this, Howard, I’m sorry. It was too beautiful to keep to yourself.

~JB