The Trees Are Silent

The trees used to talk to me. Not in the Tolkien, Ent kind of way, but in a conversational kind of way. When we played in the woods, we would run and run and run and run, and when we couldn't any longer, we would stop. That's when I would speak with the trees.

It happened for the first time one day when we were all very young. Probably no older than 9 or 10. We were running for the first time of the summer. It was distinctly sunny. I remember this because the sun hit me right in the eye, causing me to be temporarily blinded, and consequently fall.

"Boy, are you alright?"

This was the first thing a tree ever said to me.

I was quite frankly astonished. Before this incident, I was unaware that trees spoke. I regained my composure and responded that I was fine. "I would offer my assistance, but I cannot move."

This was another difference between these trees and Tolkien's Ents; these trees didn't move. They were fixed. Solid. Sturdy.

"That's fine; I understand."

And so began our conversations. I asked some obvious questions."Is this real? How can you talk?"

"Of course it's real. Us trees have been speaking for years. Long before you and your friends started all this running business, which I just do not understand."

From then on, whenever we would run, I would stop and talk. In the beginning it was mostly just that tree, who I would later learn called himself Francis, that I spoke with. Eventually though, I would have conversations with all of them. There was Ella, who was one of the only survivors of a terrible forest fire, Rayford, who in my opinion, had the best branches for climbing, Nicholas, who told me some of the best stories I'd ever heard, and countless others. I really enjoyed talking with Francis though. He was one of the oldest trees there, and he had this one branch that was perfect for sitting. It was more comfortable than any chair I ever sat in.

As I grew up I ventured out to talk to them less and less. Eventually people started wondering why I was out in the woods so often. I tried to bring a girl out there once, as a date, and things just didn't go over very smoothly. I didn't give up on them for good though. I returned at least once a month to chat, usually with Francis.

The summer after high school, whenever I could be, I was in the woods. I think I learned more in those woods than I ever did in a classroom. Sadly, that summer came to an end. I left, but those trees remained.

I didn't return for quite some time, and when I did, I didn't like what I found.

A parking lot.

I was 30. I had brought my wife and children to visit where I had grown up. The trees were the final part of the tour, but there was nothing there, except for pavement. Pavement and white lines. I was devastated. One of the most consequential parts of my childhood completely demolished and resurfaced.

And then I remembered something Francis had told me. "You humans are destroying us systematically. Every day a forest is destroyed so something new can spring up. Remember this though, you humans need us. There will always be trees. We will always be here for you"

I thought about that. I thought maybe, somewhere out there Francis or another like him still existed.

I've been searching for 20 years now, and so far, the trees are silent.