The Things That Take Root
@Stefan Seggarro The Things That Take Root 1. We planted the house in the usual way, with debt and optimism, a sapling by the fence, two chairs facing the weather. The marriage grew like ivy, charming until it reached the gutters. We raised children, raised ceilings, raised hell over the plumbing. Every spring, the roots pushed deeper beneath our arguments. We called it maintenance, this endless tending of soil. It took a lifetime to discover we had been growing shelter. 2. A pear lies split in the grass, its flesh sweetening into rot. Wasps in their yellow waistcoats hold a conference at the wound. A ladder leans against the tree like a retired fireman, its rungs polished by the boots of a younger man's urgency. I used to curse the fruit for falling before I was ready. Now I stoop with both hands, negotiating terms with my knees. The smallest harvest has become a matter of considerable ceremony. 3. The kitchen window frames a postage stamp of afternoon. Dust performs its slow ball...
