Girl Scout Gracie

I took your heart because it was the first one I had ever seen. I took it so quick and so fast, like blue sea glass at the end of a long day of hunting. I had been searching and searching for those smooth edges, that shocking color I recognized only from the confines of other peoples old peanut butter jars. Your heart was my new wonder, my toy, my “sweet dreams Barbie” whose eyes close when I stick you in the freezer for five minutes. I tested you. I experimented and stretched you like silly putty and smeared you all over the newspaper because I just loved the way the words would always come out backwards. But I kept you it that Jiff jar, and forgot you in the freezer, and one day I realized the silly putty was black from all those words that never meant anything to me but meant everything to you because each backward bit of the business section somehow spelt out “I love you.” I couldn’t burn you because you plastic heart would release carcinogens into my air. I couldn’t send you back because you didn’t come with a warrantee. I couldn’t un-find you, or give you away because I had played with you too much. My tender touch at the sign of novelty stuck fast to you and congealed your blood like water to flour. It can’t be undone. It can’t be undone. It can’t be undone. I don’t remember what it felt like to want to play with you. 

7: 479—the dream of the limitless tree.

I dreamt of a tree two nights ago. It was a big wide maple that cast its shadow over everyone and everything in the town. Upon placing my hand on the first branch, I felt a rush of familiarity; I felt as if I had climbed this tree thousands of times before. I knew exactly where each foothold was, where the next sturdy branch would be, and I climbed without stopping seeing no top above me and no trunk below, only branch after branch guiding me deep into the leafy abyss. As I was climbing I could feel the dirt gathering under my fingernails and the sharp twigs snagging my loose hair, but I kept climbing and ignored the pinch and pull of the protesting tree and the sweat and stench that overcame my body.  It seemed as if the branches would intentionally move into my path saying “stop moving forward! Stop moving up!” And finally I was forced to stop. Only after I stopped climbing did I realize the instability of the branch that supported my sore feet, and the clash of the rough bark on my slippery palms, and between two breathless gasps, I looked down on what I expected to be the minute image of my town. Instead I saw the heavenly curvature of the blue green brown red grey earth glowing with an immense distance. I had endured and conquered this tree on my own with nothing to show but the sweat on my back and the bugs in my ears whispering: “now you know.” I was alone in my victory. I was alone.

inspired by jonathan safran foer