Miscellaneous

Looking Through Death's Window

I have seen seven generations of birth, death, love, and heartbreak. Seven hundred years, my roots have rested under the soil that is comprised of both life and death. I've seen it all before me, but I never came to understand any of it until the first mockingbird came to find solace in my arms.

I came to call him the Songbird, as his melody seemed to harmonize with the whistling of the wind, and even my leaves seemed to dance in a brandish nature to the sounds of his serenade. In all of my years, I've never witnessed a feeling or story as strong as his, for he had fallen for a girl. Her name was Aster, and I happened to be the very tree that grew in her yard all these years, watching over her with interest and care as she aged with me.

The Songbird had also taken a notice to her, and once had attempted to fly near her window, the pinnacle of the home, to get a clearer view. Their eyes caught one another, and it was as if a spark had ignited in the heart of both, lighting the dark days of the modern world with something stately and beautiful. Never had he sung so radiantly, as he put all of his heart into every note.

It was rather tragic, seeing how a love so strong was put to waste by using sound to present his true feelings. Aster was deaf, and she would never have been able to enjoy his beautiful melody, no matter how many times she appeared in that window to watch. The Songbird was not aware of this, and every day he returned to the window to sing her another song, each more beautiful than the last. He never saw it as an inopportune time to appear, because to him, it was worth it every day just to see the vision of loveliness through the glass that separated their two worlds.

His love only grew, and he didn't mind if nature did not approve of how he felt for this girl. She was the sun that lit up his day and broke his night; she was the reason why he kept letting air in his lungs. I did not want to be officious, but it still pained me to see the Songbird lose his voice over someone who couldn't even hear him. He never did stop appearing, and the girl never stopped coming to meet up with him near the window. She was always there to watch, but never to listen.

It was only when the leaves began to change when I felt my own heart break, and that was when the Songbird appeared for another song, but the girl never did show up. He waited for hours that day, expecting to see her on the other side of the glass. He never did see her.

He waited for her as a longing feeling shrouded his heart and destitute settled in on his frail little body. I knew what this meant, but I never had the courage to tell him the truth. She was gone, her life departed from this world, stolen by the hands of Fate, who had this all premeditated without anyone else knowing its cruel plan. I had seen it many times in my past, the death of a once strong love, but never have I felt it so harshly. I knew from experience that every beautiful flower had to die, but I never thought I would wish that the laws of nature never existed to make this statement true.

He continued to wait, never leaving the place that once divided him from the thief of his heart. The wind blew, attempting to drive him away from his tragic fate, but he refused to move. When winter arrived, both lives of the lovers had been extirpated by nature, leaving nothing but a story for me to keep and a window of remorse to look through.

I still remember this tragic tale, and it has taught me so much about something I will never be able to cherish myself. I just hope that somewhere, they are together, and that she can finally listen to the Songbird that gave his heart to her.