#25 - Prometheus (Tree)

For two weeks following the housewarming, the tree remained on the windowsill above the kitchen sink waiting to be planted. It was a gift from Kim’s parents. They had purchased it at a roadside souvenir shop somewhere in Colorado or New Mexico or Nevada; Kim couldn’t remember. It was tiny; Jeff said it looked more like a twig than a tree.  The seedling was potted in a faux-rustic clay pot and a small booklet with growing instructions hung from a string tied to its base. 

One evening, as Jeff grilled turkey burgers on the back patio, Kim walked out of the house carrying the tree and a small gardening shovel.

“Where do you think we should put this?” She said, scanning the yard.

Jeff looked up from the grill. He glanced around the yard and then shrugged.

“Come on.” Kim said. “Pretend to care.”

“How big will it get?” He asked, lowering the lid on the grill.

Kim tossed the shovel into the grass and began leafing through the tree’s instruction booklet.

“It’s called a ‘Bristlecone Pine’. Looks like it gets to about twenty feet tall. This says it’s very slow growing.”

Jeff gave an exaggerated nod, as if fascinated by this information.

“Cool.” Kim said, ignoring Jeff and continuing to read from the booklet. “It says this tree can live up to five thousand years.” 

“Noooo.” Jeff said, stretching the word in disbelief.

“That’s what it says.” Kim said, still staring at the booklet.

“That little guy will be lucky to see five more days.” Jeff said.

Kim began walking around the perimeter of their yard, her eyes fixed on the ground, searching for the perfect spot. She stopped about five feet out from the rear privacy fence. 

“Here?” She asked, looking at Jeff.

He shrugged. “Sure. Are you going to mark it with something? A flag maybe? I don’t want to mow over it.”

“Good idea.” Kim dropped to her knees in the grass and began digging. When she was finished planting the tree, she remained on her knees, looking at it, sizing it up the same way she did with a cake she had decorated or furniture she had rearranged.

“Jeff, could you bring me a glass of water?” She said from her spot in the grass.

“I’m kind of–“ He started to say, but then changed his mind. “In a minute.”

After watering the seedling, Kim found a piece of red ribbon to tie around the very top of its single limb.

“It looks like we cut a branch from somebody’s Christmas tree and decided to bury it.” She said, stepping back.

After dinner they sat together on the sofa with their laptops open and the TV playing. Jeff was writing an email. Kim was reading a gardening blog.

“I need to pick up some mulch tomorrow.” She said.

“For the tree?” Jeff asked.

Kim nodded, not looking away from her computer screen.

“Cool.” He said.

“You know what?” She suddenly said. “Our tree can live up to five thousand years. The oldest tree ever discovered was a bristlecone pine. They don’t even know how old it was, but it was more than five thousand years. I’m reading about it now.”

Jeff closed his laptop and sunk deeper into the sofa, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. “I had no idea trees could live that long.” He said, his voice trailing off as another yawn struck. He laid back and closed his eyes.

“Five thousand years.” Jeff said. “What will this world be like in five thousand years? That tree you just planted might outlive the entire human race.”

“Humans will still be here.” Kim said, confidently. “But most likely, we’ll be subjugated by alien invaders or something.

“You’re such an optimist.” Jeff said. His eyes were still closed and he was speaking in the low way he did just before falling asleep. “Our descendants will be slaves, huh?”

Kim placed her laptop on the coffee table and moved closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and said, “Maybe one of our descendants will help lead an uprising against the aliens. Or maybe the aliens won’t be so bad, and they’ll share their technology with us. Who knows?”

 “All our meals will be in pill form.” Jeff said.

“Do you think we’ll all wear silver flight suits everywhere? Or will that have gone out of style a few thousand years earlier?” Kim said, staring up at the ceiling. She reached over and picked up the TV remote and hit the power button. The large screen went black.

“The silver flight suits stopped being cool around the year twenty-three fifty-four; by twenty-five twelve, plaid will make a comeback. Just my prediction.”Jeff said.

“Our cars will fly.” She said.

“We won’t need cars. Teleportation, remember? But if you want a flying car, you can still have one.”

“Our bodies will be mostly robots. Like Darth Vader.” Kim said.

“One world government.” He said.

“One world language.” She said.

“We’ll all eat Dippin Dots.” He said.

Kim shifted her head. “Dippin Dots?”

Jeff opened his eyes and looked at her. “Those little balls of ice cream they sell at amusement parks and baseball games. I’m sure you’ve seen it. They look like ice cream-BBs.”

“Maybe.” Kim said, sitting up. “But why would we eat that?”

“They call it the ‘ice cream of the future’. That’s their slogan.”

“Can I just keep my regular ice cream?” Kim asked. She was standing up, ready to go to bed. Jeff reached out to her and she helped him up off the sofa.

“There’ll still be real ice cream around.” He said.

In the bathroom, Kim stood at the sink brushing her teeth. She could hear Jeff in their bedroom, changing out of his clothes. He was singing something, mumbling over the lyrics he wasn’t sure of. Kim recognized it as the theme song of a sitcom they had watched together earlier that evening. She stepped away from the sink and looked out the window into the darkness of their backyard. Though she couldn’t see it, she was aware of the tree out there, standing only a few inches taller than the grass. It was hard to imagine that anything could live five thousand years, but she hoped it would. The rest would pass away. 

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To learn more about the tree named Prometheus, read the original Wikipedia article HERE.