He lived closest to the house, the one that was abandoned. The old-style red brick facade and the concrete patio enclosed on two sides beginning to crack. Tall, unmanicured bushes began on the exposed side of the patio and continued to the end of the house, blocking the bottom half of the windows from view. The backyard was overgrown with power lines drooping almost to the ground and isolated trees that seemed too out-competed to grow any bigger. The front yard was kept in check sporadically, enough to avoid city fines. On those days, the yard stood out starkly from the shoddy house and decomposing fence.
It wasn't always abandoned, but it was as good as abandoned. The house used to be lived in by an old woman who was never seen. Only the daughter was seen once in a while, to see her mother and to make sure the lawn was cut regularly. It usually was. The old woman died while he was still at home and he was told a family in Highland Park, the old-money neighborhood that thought itself separate from the city that surrounded it, had bought the house after the daughter had had it for a few years. Apparently the family had bought the house for their high school child, to be passed over upon completion of college. So the house was as good as abandoned, with little difference from before except the extended neglect. Perhaps this was for the best because on the small parcel of land, in front of the unkempt house, was a prize rarely seen within city neighborhoods.
A tree left to its own natural devices; huge with lengthy limbs growing outward, falling almost to the ground with weight, and curving back up to take advantage of the sun. The tree grew as if meant for climbing, and like a staircase one could go up one side of the tree and come down the other. Once, he clamored up one side and rested. Above him there was a chattering and he realized a squirrel was already to the top, wanting to go down but unsure of which path kept the most distance between it and him. Another time he met a cat in the branches; and yet another time he climbed to the top during a light rain and watched all the colors change.
Apart from natural encounters, he also had human ones within the tree. Religious speakers shared words with him from below. A few people have noticed him up in the branches but kept going with their daily routine. One person joined him, though; a best friend. She was the only other person he took into the tree. It was where they got to know each other more and the second time, it was where they kissed. After the kiss, he sat in the branch asking what they should do next and not hearing a word of it. She was blocked in by him and looked at him expectantly. He mumbled some excuse about a toll she should pay to pass and he could swear she rolled her eyes, but kissed him anyway. Still he did not move, wanting to freeze time on the tree, to hold the situation and keep it around a little longer. She pushed him down.
Suffice to say, he had an attachment to the tree, and still does. Though, now it has all changed, as all things do change. The Highland Park connection disappeared, taxes stopped being paid, and the house was auctioned off. Crews started showing up, kicking out the animal residents of the house, tearing down the fence, and butchering the tree. A tree left to its own accord will create the most beautiful living art; however, this comes at the cost of not being easily manipulated by humans. A newborn tree under constant scrutiny can take many forms, of which many look appealing; but once a tree has set its own path, it can only be scarred and mutilated. And so this tree still stands and lives with countless fresh stumps exposed all over its body. No one will easily climb into its arms and nestle into its crooks again. The new owners probably have no children anyway, let alone taste, respect.
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