THE RECORD

October 02, 1996

BACK TO THE EGG

Suzanne Trevis

My neighbour from up the hill wandered down yesterday with this nifty little pruning tool, clipping back the branches along the access road. "What's he doing?" asked my six year old, when we first noticed him outside. "Cutting back the trees," replied my husband. "No he's not!" she cried in a sudden panic, "He's cutting down my fort!" She ran to the window then to her Dad, begging him to get outside and "Make that man stop!"

There was this weird feeling of being both characters in the scene at the same time. I was seeing everything from both sides at once.

* * * * * *

There was a big tree by my house. A huge alder, with big branches for climbing. We used to sit up there for hours. Me at the bottom (I didn't like heights even back then) and the rest of them scattered about, laughing and singing and doing the stuff you do in trees.

My friend Karen used to hang upside down by her knees. A feat I envy to this day as I could never do it.

Anyway, we came home from school one day and they had cleared the lot across the road. Big piles of earth had been pushed up along the ditch, and a huge digger was in the process of pushing over Our Tree.

It was catastrophic. I cried and begged my mother to go out and tell him to stop How dare he. It was Our Tree. No one had said he could knock it down.

I remember the rage and the total helplessness and being so angry with my mom because she didn't even try to go out and stop him.

* * * * * *

I pulled Jenny over. "It's okay," I said, "Look, he's only cutting a few of the poky branches. You're fort will be okay. Why don't you go check?"

We watched as she ran across the road. I could see her pointing and talking animatedly with the neighbour. He smiled and waved to us in the window.

I relaxed, knowing I wouldn't have to be a "bad guy" in this particular childhood trauma. It sure can be tough sometimes.