The Painted Tree

         It was a beautiful mid autumn day in the park. There was a gentle breeze dancing through the treetops and kissing the faces of those spending the afternoon in the beauty of the brightly colored leaves and clear skies. There was a group of children chasing their dog round a large open patch of grass as their parents watched and laughed. There were a number of couples; old and young, walking hand in hand or arm in arm, here there, and all around. Teenagers were skateboarding and long boarding along the winding sidewalks that mapped the entire park, and there was even a street musician playing his guitar and singing sweetly near the large fountain at the main entrance.

Midway through the afternoon a woman entered the park alone. No one much noticed her; or at least there was nothing remarkable about her to pull their attention away from their normal day, as she silently walked to one of the park benches that lined the main walkway through the center of the park. She sat down and pulled the hair from her face as the wind blew it out from under her hat, and she tucked it tightly back inside. Then....she waited. For what, not even she was completely sure. The day had been a particularly difficult one for her, that much was easy to see just from her eyes. They held such sadness. They were tired, heavy, glassy, and filled to the brim with thoughts and fears. Normally she would stay home on days like this. She would sleep long, move slowly, and barely have enough strength to eat or do much of anything. Today however she somehow found herself at the park and sitting on this particular bench.

The minutes passed by and still she just sat there. The cool breeze caressed her eyes causing them to tear and free the ocean that had been laying in wait for release. She tried to brush the tears away but with every wipe of her hand more tears filled and fell. She lifted her vision to the soft white clouds that were floating above her and let out a frustrated and angry groan.

"I didnt come here to cry dammit." She said under her breath.

"Why did you come here then?" Came a calm voice from the other side of the path.

The woman looked down and her eyes adjusted to the sight of a young man; no more than twenty-five or so, sitting at a large easel, painting. Where did he come from, she wondered. He wasnt there just a minute ago. The young man glanced at the woman and smiled as he continued his work.

"Excuse me" she said "but I don't remember seeing you there."

The young man just smiled even wider as he looked back at his work.

"I dont think you saw very much of anything going on in this park when you walked in. We have a habit of missing quite a lot when we're sad or angry. For instance, I would wager that you didnt even notice the men working behind you? Despite the noise they are making."

The woman turned her head and looked at the small grove of trees behind her where a group of men were busily digging up one of the center tree's.

"No I didn't." She said as she watched them. "What are they doing?"

"Removing that tree it appears."

"Why?" She asked as she turned back around. "It looks perfectly healthy to me."

"Oh it is. In fact it was one of the first trees planted in this grove. It gave life to many of the younger trees around it. They're moving it because it's time to replant it. It's beginning to die here."

The woman once again turned around to watch the men work. She watched as they began to cut off many of the beautiful trees branches and throw them into the back of a truck.