Cultured Trees

Red notes and dust bowls, names that meant more then than they do now, and others the reverse, time healing even wounds we didn’t know we had, strengthening the bones, following friends down streets to places where we’d part, small moments of sadness, as we look across at someone who we know we mightn’t see again, or at least for years, the family we elect from the people around us, those that took us in and who we take in ourselves, age isn’t a rule in familial love, adopted brothers, a single sister and a new mother, father’s never have a relationship as special as that with their daughter, I think all men know this and accept it, we’re all the same so there is no blame, even if it’s not obvious to the people involved…

Small gestures, the first girl who called me snide, I never really let go of that, I was walking her back to her house, my friend, her boyfriend, was being sent to the desert, his parents had had enough of him, mainly the stepmother, we spent the day packing at his house, we were the only friends in Sydney who cared he was going, he gave us possessions that he thought we would want, using the excuse of a lack of space in his bag, but really, I think he just wanted to give us something, maybe in thanks, maybe to remember him by, probably both, he was never good at being honest… We parted, she didn’t cry, his girlfriend that is, she cared I could see that much, I walked her back to her house, I didn’t think it was right to leave her by herself at that point, plus Brent lived in a bad suburb, genuinely bad suburb, so I pushed my bicycle along as we walked, we didn’t say much, she wasn’t in a talking mood but she stayed close enough to indicate she wanted the company, I didn’t have much to say, I didn’t really know she existed until that day, she was best friends with a girl I’d come to love later, it’s funny the way these things work, we parted barely without a word just a ‘I live here.’ I said goodbye and got on my bicycle, she went inside and called her best friend over, and told her amongst many other things something I’ve no doubt was totally unimportant to her that day, that Brent’s friend walked her home, and that he was snide.

I’m a lot of things but I’m not snide, I was baffled by it too since I had hardly said a word to her. So when Alle met me, she knew the most about me from that comment she had heard years before our meeting, she knew me as Brent’s snide friend. Which was a great basis to work off of when she was the first girl I had wanted, really wanted, in years, since Fiona.

‘Snide.’