Blue Skies and Memories

There's a lot of my childhood I really don't remember. A few scraps, mostly, and a few really crystal clear memories that probably happened totally different than I remember. But most of it's a blank. I guess it's because we really don't do much as kids. Who remembers what they might have done when they were five, right? And there's not really much to remember about school, so. I remember my teachers, and some of my class mates. Don't remember learning much; it feels more like I always knew all the stuff they had to teach anyway. Maybe that's just the brain's way of integrating it into your mind or something.

I looked up at the sky today, and it was the clearest, deepest, most perfect blue that I've ever seen. It wasn't just blue, it was Blue. The Blue, against which all other shades of the color are measured. It was really amazing in its way, one of those little everyday miracles that seem to blossom all around us all the time. I looked up into that sky, and I don't know why, but I started thinking about my childhood. Which led to the question above.

Later I was in town, and I stopped to get gas at one of the local stations. It's right next door to the school I attended until eighth grade; a lot of us used to skip classes or jump the fences during recess to walk over and buy drinks and candy bars. I was at the island, had the nozzle in the tank and was letting the pump do its work, and I looked over at this huge, I mean enormous old, gnarly oak tree that stood in the middle of the school's yard. It's been there for decades, I think; definitely it was there when I was five, and it seems like its always been the same size. I've never seen leaves on it. There used to be a second oak that stood maybe fifty feet away from it, same size, same dead branches, everything.

I used to sit under the shade of those trees some days. I'd skip a class or go out during the lunch break and just sit there, watching the clouds roll over. Sometimes I'd pretend that one tree was good and the other was evil, and I'd imagine the fights they must have had. Then when I got a little older, I imagined they were in love with each other, and how horrible it must have been for them to be so close yet so far apart. (Yes, I was one of those stupid kids who had a thing for tragedy and drama. Sue me.)

The second tree must have been cut down a few years ago. I never noticed until today, when I looked over and saw just the lone oak tree. I wonder if any of the kids attending there now have any stories about those trees. Or just the one. Or at all. It saddens me to think that maybe they don't. Nothing to be done about it, though. The other will probably be cut down in a few more years. But until then, it'll still be there. God knows nothing else on earth is gonna move it.

I'm gonna keep pretending the evil one was the one that got cut down. It makes me feel a little better, thinking that the good guy won. Even if its only for a little while.