Tomorrow Will Be Kinder (Watty Awards 2012)

III: Impact

I turn off Main Street and veer down a sodden road. 

After all this time, the rain hasn’t let up. It still pours down, never ceasing, and if anything, getting stronger. The sky the darkest grey I’ve ever seen – not black, instead a much more sinister shade. The thunder rumbles are getting louder by the second, and I can see the lightning, creeping closer with every resounding crack. 

I pick up my pace, weaving down the small road. The gravel is slowly morphing into a simple dirt path, mud forming beneath my shoes. 

I’m heading to the river that runs through the town. It’s a bit of an odd one, what with so many corners and sudden turns. The river is what holds us all together – every house is built next to or near it. It’s where everyone goes to hang out and relax. 

When I was old enough to crawl, my sisters took me down to the river. They’d built a big treehouse, nestled on a massive trunk. The trees around the river were as big as mansions – perfect for climbing and building upon. There was a rope ladder that dropped down five metres that we all used to get up to the house, but my sisters, being the geniuses they are, devised a small pulley system using rope, duct tape and a clothes basket. They used that to get me up, until I was four, when I decided I was a big girl and could finally climb the ladder myself. 

The treehouse was our home away from home. It was stocked with toys, food, blankets, electronics… everything we’d ever need. Whenever we needed to get away from everything, the treehouse was the place we’d go. 

Even though Desirée and Isobelle have left town, pursuing their careers, I still visit the tree daily. Sometimes I climb to the very top and peek out of the branches, watching over the whole town. I can see everything from that point, from where the river starts up in the western hills, to where it rounds the corner of an eastern mountain and disappears for three hundred kilometres. I can see every single house that has ever been built, and even some people, as small as ants.

Many others have built houses in trees as well. They almost are homes away from homes, especially for children, because each treehouse has a name and a letter box. For some fun, kids can drop notes in their friends’ boxes and run away before being caught.

I used to do that. When my sisters and I were younger, we had many friends, and would always be planning exciting adventures together. However, I was the runt of the litter, a few years younger than any of the other children. At the time, I didn’t care, because they all still included me.

But now, years later, when everyone had grown up and left, I was starting to feel lonely.

God knows how many times Desirée and Isobelle asked I come live with them in the U.S. God knows how many times they slipped me a plane ticket, begging me to board the aircraft with them and fly away with them, to another world.

They visited once every two or three months, sometimes less. The last time I’d seen them face to face was four months ago, in fact. Isobelle had landed a lead role on an up-and-coming television show, and Desirée had just begun filming a new movie.

When they had last visited, all they had talked about was me moving in with one of them.

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“Or you can get your own apartment,” Desy offered. “It’s not like you have to constantly live with us.”

“Yeah!” Izzy yelled. “Then we can see you all the time. Do you know how hard it is to fly out here so often? Three different flights, seven hour car drives… it completely drains me!”