It is Sunday afternoon. An old Herbert Baker building is the address of this five year old. There is a bed that is great for jumping, rickety enough to gain maximum movement, stable enough to offer safety.
Alongside the bed is a carpet whose design I know so well. Its centre is a gold triangle enclosing a red circle. Many a nights when mother was out and nanny was in, I would gaze at that rug telling myself that the circle was God’s eye watching and protecting me.
My brother and I were in a state of restlessness, which always landed up in a crescendo. He asked me what I would like to be when I grew up.
That is so easy. I always wanted to be a tree. A tall old tree in a sunny field.
A tree I reply. You can’t be a tree he says. Oh I did not know that rule. Okay then I will become my next best thing, a baby monkey.
For you see my five-year-old understanding was that one could become anything one wanted. I would spend a lot of time wondering why someone would become a sick dog, or a stained coffee cup and to choose to be a fly was beyond my understanding. But even then I knew there were all types and that is how in my mind objects came into being. So I wasn’t exactly clear why I could not become a tree.
A baby monkey he says laughing. The idea of perpetual playfulness though radically different to that of a static tree was my choices and I could not see why he found this funny. In a sentence or two he dismissed my theory of life, the universe and everything in it.
He then told me he was going to be a doctor. What a strange choice I thought. About the same as choosing to be a balcony.
So here I am , many full moons later, with a still innate longing to be an ancient tree in a sunny field and wondering how I could change the cosmic law.
Perhaps Su, next time, your wish will come true. Putting aside the Wheel of Life for a minute, you would be the mother trunk born from acorn delivered to a wonderful viewing spot by a passing Acorn Woodpecker. They are a most playful, noisy, joking subspecies of woodpeckerdom.
Jj, I would be sitting in Oakie's arms while the bobcat tried to murder him.
Oh Su, the bobcat we are speaking of is what the contractors use to knockdown Oaks and uproot the stumps. Its a one person, small little bulldozer. Looks like a supermarket car-cart or a dodgem car.
7 comments:
This land is your land
This land is my land
Well, it was before the foreclosure
Let's build a highway to nowhere through here said the feds--that tree has got to go--perfect place for a Quickie Mart
Jj
Nina,
THE DEATH OF AMBITION
It is Sunday afternoon. An old Herbert Baker building is the address of this five year old.
There is a bed that is great for jumping, rickety enough to gain maximum movement, stable enough to offer safety.
Alongside the bed is a carpet whose design I know so well. Its centre is a gold triangle enclosing a red circle. Many a nights when mother was out and nanny was in, I would gaze at that rug telling myself that the circle was God’s eye watching and protecting me.
My brother and I were in a state of restlessness, which always landed up in a crescendo. He asked me what I would like to be when I grew up.
That is so easy. I always wanted to be a tree. A tall old tree in a sunny field.
A tree I reply. You can’t be a tree he says.
Oh I did not know that rule.
Okay then I will become my next best thing, a baby monkey.
For you see my five-year-old understanding was that one could become anything one wanted. I would spend a lot of time wondering why someone would become a sick dog, or a stained coffee cup and to choose to be a fly was beyond my understanding. But even then I knew there were all types and that is how in my mind objects came into being. So I wasn’t exactly clear why I could not become a tree.
A baby monkey he says laughing. The idea of perpetual playfulness though radically different to that of a static tree was my choices and I could not see why he found this funny. In a sentence or two he dismissed my theory of life, the universe and everything in it.
He then told me he was going to be a doctor. What a strange choice I thought. About the same as choosing to be a balcony.
So here I am , many full moons later, with a still innate longing to be an ancient tree in a sunny field and wondering how I could change the cosmic law.
Nina I swear this is the tree I yearned to be.
Perhaps Su, next time, your wish will come true.
Putting aside the Wheel of Life for a minute, you would be the mother trunk born from acorn delivered to a wonderful viewing spot by a passing Acorn Woodpecker.
They are a most playful, noisy, joking subspecies of woodpeckerdom.
Jj, I would be sitting in Oakie's arms while the bobcat tried to murder him.
Pray tell why would the bobcat be murdering Jj.
Oh Su, the bobcat we are speaking of is what the contractors use to knockdown Oaks and uproot the stumps. Its a one person, small little bulldozer. Looks like a supermarket car-cart or a dodgem car.
damn foreigners.......try speaking american......LOL
Jj
People actually speak American?
Which dialect of the several I've heard while crossing the U.S.A. is that? (asked with a wink and a grin)
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