A love affair with a tree can happen in an instant.
My tree has these sprawling branches that just hover over my head, reminding me of myself as a teenage with my monkey arms that were disproportionately long for my body. I solved this minor crisis by mimicking a chimpanzee, walking on my palms and swinging my body forward with ease. The trunk of this tree is sturdy and surrounded by green, a full set of leaves flutter in the slight breeze and a full blanket of grass below, devoid of dog poop. You know it’s the perfect spot when there’s just enough sun beaming through the branches but also shade to retreat into and grass to fall back on.
I surprised myself by how disappointed I was that this tree, I can hardly claim ownership over it from my one visit, was already offering shade to two young women and their fold able table picnic spread. This is only my second visit to this park, I love the generous spread of grass and trees upon trees, there must be at least twenty trees at this park. As I survey my options, I pass today’s fellow occupants. A curly haired tall man pushing an empty stroller calls out in an Australian accent to his antsy toddler, you need to pee pee? Do American accents come off equally sexy when saying commonplace things to foreigners? I find that hard to believe. A cluster of men and women in their twenties and thirties chit chat, all decked out with shades and summer wear. A medium height man in board shorts steps forward in the circle, hand extended to a woman in a coral cotton dress. Hi, I’m Chris. He’s a Brit. A middle aged Jewish man plays cards with an older woman who looks to be his mother. They are both intently bent over their cards in a separate world by themselves. A young teenage couple lie on their stomachs, heads and bodies pressed close. An older woman in white strolls down the sidewalk, hands behind her back, a little dog tagging behind, the leash dragging, free. A child zooms past me on his scooter squealing nonsensical sounds as his mother shakes her head smiling, taking the grass. Three older men walk side by side, eyes on the ground, occasionally swinging their face up to look at the speaker.
I have found a lovely alternative spot. There’s a tangle of rose bushes to my left and space to spread my blanket out for some reading time. I inhale and exhale the day out and bury my phone from view. I pull out “The Joy Luck Club” and resume where I left off.
This is happiness.