Introduction to Plant Life

A high school teacher of a few decades returned to her car one afternoon to find fresh welts on the driver side door. The welts were the size of golf balls. To the south she caught glimpse of two known sophomores hiding unsuccessfully behind a tree. She made a show of squinting in their direction, though quietly she envied the luxury of their carelessness. The act of vandalism itself belonged to a growing category of things that no longer moved her. She was tired, and there was little left to be stirred by the bruising of a Datsun.

Only much later and by quirk of memory did she recall that the tree, a sycamore, had been marked for removal. This caused her to cry suddenly and for reasons so distant and close that she began to laugh, and then cry deeper still, deeper than any time since that time.

Some regrets left unforgiven rot slowly from the inside, and no one ever comes to remove them.

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