The question brought my stomach to my knees. Which then brought my jaw to the floor. Not because it was asked, but because of the implications behind what was asked. My fingers ached to answer, my stomach begged me not to. Now I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t do anything. I am stymied.
I am rooted to the ground like an old cherry tree everyone forgot about growing against the side of a house on a hill. Half obstructed from view, and only remembered when its fruit has blossomed. Wanting to cry out for attention – the attention it got in the spring time during full bloom. But also afraid of the attention – afraid of not living up to the expectations and desires perceived by others. Were its branches long enough? Did they provide enough shelter for all who seek it? Would they still stick around when all the leaves have fallen and left it barren for the winter? Does the cherry tree bloom because it receives attention, or does the cherry tree get attention because it blooms?
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