No traces remained

Fear, repulsion and horror, it seems, often leads to avoidance and willful ignorance. A natural reaction is to not want to look too closely (or look at all) at that which causes angst and dread. From the moment I heard the news of that untimely demise and all of its gory details, I could not look at even a picture of the Key Bridge without imagining that ghastly scene. I had the same reaction if someone even mentioned the bridge. I didn’t want to look at it or hear anything about it, much less drive across it. It was all I could do to put that darkness out of my thoughts on my last trip over it. But now that it is gone, I am strongly compelled to look at images of the bridge. To try and understand that which had always caused me to turn away in revulsion. I look intensely at pictures and films of its past, as well as those of its demise and dismantling. Now, oddly enough, I find myself closely studying that which I always had turned away from.

This sort of repulsion/attraction reaction is not a new thing for me. A behavior not unlike that of a cat, fearful of, yet intensely drawn towards something that sparks its interest. When I was a child, there was a really spooky looking dead tree that towered high above the woods behind the house across the street. It was far enough away I could not see fine detail, but close enough that I could make out its shape. And what an evil-looking form it took! A vaguely humanoid figure with jagged spikes upon its head and two gnarled arms with clawed hands that reached out to either side. I couldn’t help but wonder if it might come to life on Halloween night and stalk and snatch children as they went trick or treating. In my logical mind I knew that really wasn’t possible, but still, part of me found this tree to be terrifying. On at least one occasion I got up the nerve to go into the woods with a friend and see if I could locate the tree. Despite my fears, I so much wanted to see that sinister tree up close, to stand at its base and maybe even touch it. Of course, we made sure to go in broad daylight, as if the light of the sun would protect us from its evil spell. But I was never able to find it. Perhaps we were right next to it, but failed to recognize it due to the drastic change of perspective of being on the ground looking up.

This tree was always there in my childhood – day, night, winter and summer. And it was a huge object of fascination for me. It seemed to be eternal and unchanging. That is, until one blustery day in March when I got off the school bus and cast my eyes towards the woods and realized that it was gone. The tree monster had fallen, sometime that day while I was at school. No trace of it remained above the leafless forest. A deep feeling of sadness and disappointment came over me. Somehow I found myself missing that creepy skeletal tree that had struck fear in me for so many years. I could not believe it was really gone….