Siblings Secret

24--Ivan

March 29 

1:37 PM

Back at my dad's house, it was still early in the day. It seems like the day is moving slowly, though I am not complaining. Mom and Alma decided to stay a bit longer. My parents are in the sala (living room), lying opposite each other on the couch; Mom is watching her novella while Dad is on his phone.

Kiara disappeared to her room along with Alma, Alex went to his room, and I went to the kitchen to get water. My eyes wandered over to our backyard. "Hmm..." I wondered, walking towards the sliding door. As I opened it, I was greeted by our Family Tree.

Our father planted it when he bought the house; mom was pregnant with Alma at the time, they told us.

Walking further outside, I had to crook my neck up from how tall it was. I always treasure this tree; when I look at it, I can't help but think, is this what art lovers feel when they are looking at a masterpiece? This tree is as much alive as I am. It helps me think but at the same time clears my mind; sometimes, the tree makes me feel different emotions depending on the day: relief, freedom, overwhelmed, but mostly that feeling like everything is going to be okay.

At first, this tree was nothing more than just a way for us to have oxygen; it was just another tree that died, but then slowly, it became my refuge from them. Every time they sprout some religious bullshit, and we get into a heated argument, this tree was my escape. My escape from their absurd expectation, from their judging beliefs, and hypocritical words.

I would literally be able to hide from them the higher I climbed up. Staying there for hours, the rustling sound the leaves make in the wind, the soft sway the branches would move as if it was dancing with the Sun, the calmness or its earthly smell, and just the distraction of its green beauty. All of it became my own way to continue with this bullshit of life.

I may personify the Family Tree, but in my experience, it is more human than them. Do you not see it?

Its long green hair flows down yet moves with the wind. It shields itself from the outside world, but in reality, it doesn't care what the outside world says about it. Every time we meet, this tree always tells me, "I'm Free," I chuckled, "Lucky bastard," I said out loud.

Beauty always comes with an unsightly side from different perspectives. Those who think of it as a bore really can't see past what it is shown, in my opinion. Then there is the other side of views that see the beauty; they are the ones that take life beyond what the naked eye can grasp.

They are the ones I would listen to without meaning: what is life? They would know since they give their life meaning when they had none before.

Walking through the barrier of the tree's rapunzel-like leaves, I couldn't help but rank my hand through feeling the texture. I have always wished to become this tree, but funny enough, I feel like I already am; however, I would consider it more carefully, which made me conclude how I dare compare myself to Earth's child. This being is life. My savor. My place to go when I want to decompress. However, it seems I haven't done the last part as often since I have been dating him.

How can a mere tree such as this bring out mixed emotions at once and become so vast that it causes heartache but merriness at the same time? Moments like that always cause a tear to form; instead of blinking it away, I let it flow free. That lone tear returns with more of its friends racing each other down my face. Sobbing is the only way to relieve these overwhelming emotions. I cry my heart out, feeling everything at once: restlessness stands out more, followed by my anxiousness, triggering my flight or fight switch.

No matter how many wishes I repeat in my head, I will never be like this tree. Free. I'm trapped in a cage with my wings cut, even if it wasn't cut directly. I always new that my body was bound by chains, it was impossible to get up and fly.