A Lunch Walk

For my sister Annadele - although this doesn't quite resemble most of our walks, it might resemble one or two.



You were there. And I was there. I don't remember seeing anyone else. But you remember don't you? I remember walking down the street. It was one of those lunches, I had already tied my jacket around my waist and the sweat was starting to gather in the crevice of my spine. You had forgotten your sunglasses and my slacks were bunching at my ankles, right above the tongue of my newly put on tennis shoes. We were laughing at something you said, I think, maybe something I said (although I know I am not that funny). I felt it first, although you must have seen it not long after. It was like the feeling when you think you have a spider in your hair, the softest of touches. Except then your eyes got wide and you motioned for me to feel my head. I did, and then turned around.

Nothing was disturbed, the tree next to us was swaying slightly, but I didn't feel anything on my head and you were shaking yours like you couldn't believe what had just happened. It was then that I saw it. It moved. And I don't mean moved like shook a little in the wind or even like those stories from Disney where the trees creak and groan toward you in some sort of grotesque horror or nightmare scene. I mean full on Fangorn forest moved.

For a second, I didn't say anything. Then it was like three million words at once as you chimed in. 'Oh my gosh did you see that did that f'ing tree freaking move or was I just imagining oh my gosh its doing it again!'. 


I truly had my fight or flight moment however, when that first tree stepped its root up onto the sidewalk. To your credit, your brain was like three tenths of a second faster than mine because when I turned to run, you were a couple of yards in front of me and moving quickly. I could hear the cement ripping up as that small little tree ripped huge roots through the middle of the road to swipe at my (hopefully) rapidly disappearing self. But I didn't want to turn around, so I'm not entirely sure what happened. All I know was that I was picturing roots shooting through my body and being devoured like an orc into the ground below the tree.

By this time you were so far in front of me that I was surprised you heard my shouting. Especially seeing as the breath was starting to stop coming in and out of my lungs due to the fact that I do not run. Really, never. You did turn though, your feet turning and quickly peddling past my rapidly slowing ones to follow my directions.

Chain.

Saw.

We needed one and I think you and I both knew where the likliest place was. Although, I had no idea what saying the words out loud would mean. Who would have thought that on a road lined with trees, one chasing after us as if it was hell bent on our destruction (at one point the radar above the speed limit sign actually read 13 mph - I am hoping that it was clocking me, but the truth is, I wasn't near big enough to catch its attention) that the words "chain" and "saw" when put together would produce the sheer disaster that was hundreds of trees ripping up their roots and coming after us?

Okay. So a chainsaw was out of the question. There was no way we were holding at bay a hundred or so trees with just a chainsaw. Or maybe two if the Kingston Yacht Club even had any to begin with. But I could  see you were still running, and with purpose, so I kicked up my heels and tried to catch you (which of course  I couldn't, but it was the effort that counted I suppose). You headed directly for the ferry dock.

Smart girl.

Except of course that there was no ferry docked.

But you didn't even hesitate, winding your way down to the pier where a few dozen yachts stood, ready for our salvation.

Do you know how to sail a yacht? Do I? These questions are irrelevant when being chased by a couple hundred killer trees. Did I mention hell bent on our destruction? I could even see a couple in the forest behind the neighborhood we were just in starting to move. What were we to do?

I quickly unwound the rope from the dock on the boat you had chosen. It was a fairly large vessel, but it was toward the end of the pier so I figured it would be easier to maneuver out of the actual dock itself. I ran up to where I could see a steering mechanism and sure enough, there was the ignition. No it didn't have keys, but you make it up when you are fleeing from trees and you had better believe it, I hot-wired that boat. Or you did, but regardless, we made it start and then I turned it methodically around and started to rev the engine, getting us out into deeper water.

What I didn't expect was that the trees would follow us. I mean really? What are they going to do?

Except we forgot one very important thing - trees float.

Plans formed without words and I turned our bow to the concrete salvation at hand. Seattle. Or at least where I thought Seattle should be. And maybe we didn't go exactly straight, what with me trying to navigate and you trying to fend off increasingly persistent branches being thrown towards us by some very angry trees. What did we even do? Finally however, we made it to Seattle and I saw no way for us to escape except to beach our boat. So we did, just up the beach from the sculpture park. There were trees in that park too, but apparently this forest did not have the same animosity towards us that the other forest did.

As the trees came up the beach towards us though we knew we needed to keep moving, so I took off after you and we raced towards the nearest skyscraper. Water didn't work, maybe air would.

We took the stairs two at a time, at least for a bit. I didn't know where the elevator was and for some reason we didn't think to ask or look. By the time we got to the roof and looked down, there was a veritable forest standing around us, and more trees were coming all the way across the sound, it was like a greenbelt - across the water.

And now, looking down at this forest that has sprung up around us, I am wondering how we will get home, or even if we will be able to get off this room. But you were there right? I wasn't just dreaming?