Short story + Memoirs
Fallen
The unintentional creation of home
Inspired by Penny Grubb beautiful, six-word story about bees. 🐝
Please read and study the photo.
I asked myself, what other homes were created accidently? The tree that fell in my grandmother’s backyard, a rented home, came to mind. The landlord was slow, to put it mildly, to have it removed.
It was an enormous tree and rotten from the inside out. When it came down in a storm years ago, thankfully, it fell in the direction away from the house, it hit the shed, partially, which sat in the rear of the backyard. According to my Grandmother, it made a “terrible noise”, “like to scared her hair even whiter”, she said, already sporting a snowy crown.
She called, my mother called, and called, and called to try to get the monstrosity chopped up and hauled away, until like other broken promises, they grew tired of waiting and eventually cynicism replaced their determination. My Grandmother, the badass that she was, took an old rusty axe out back and tried to chop the tree herself, but it was too much — her tool, too dull, so she let it be.
Years rolled, seasons changed, flowers, vines and moss grew, children were born, grew up and moved away. Generations of furry-faced woodland creatures peeked in and out of the now hollowed out tree. Squirrels, raccoons, chipmunks, a few mice. They were kept to a minimum by the healthy feral cat population that roamed the back alley.
No longer an eye sore but ornately decorated with twirling vines, plush moss, prancing ants, and a few crickets flirted with becoming lunch for ravenous squirrels. The felled tree was as a part of the landscape as the morning glory, and quite a gothic beauty it was — leaning heavily between the fence and shed.
One day, my brother asked about getting rid of the tree and she said, someone lives there now. Resolute to the presence of her new neighbors, and the annual explosion of critters that sometimes cause mischief with fresh laundry hanging on the line, their residence was stated as fact.
Sometimes I’d catch my Grandmother staring off into the distance, I never asked her what was on her mind. I imaged her considering her own home, that belonged to someone else, and how she dwelt there for two decades or more, with the landscape, both human and natural, constantly changing around her. Those times felt private — I left them there undisturbed, just like that tree and those vines and furry faced critters.
©️KS Hernandez 2022
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