Mr. Stick

It was a strange, yet comforting, feeling being inside a dog’s mouth. Don’t misunderstand me, I would have much preferred staying connected to Mother, with all my other siblings. However, I don’t often get what I want; I am just a stick, Mr. Stick more specifically. Yes, not the most original but give the kid a break, will ya?

The kid in question is Carrie, and the spawn of Jeff. Everything that has happened to me is because of Jeff and man do I hate him for it. You see, Jeff is a pretender, who I’ve heard through the window near where Mother sits bloviate on his environmentalist activism, and how he really does care about the environment. The problem is he doesn’t care about the environment; in truth he hurts the environment, just like her hurt me. One afternoon, he stormed out into the back yard, while my siblings and I arched towards the waning sun, speaking into that devilish black box, and so he yanked me right off of Mother. What a jerk!

Since then, I’ve been adrift. So alone! Luckily, I’ve remained confined to the enclosure near Carrie and Jeff’s house, there hasn’t been a gusty summer day yet. However, I’m glum, drifting on the grass, unable to communicate with Mother or my siblings. So, when Jeff’s little yapping dog, named Dog, again she’s just a child don’t judge her naming ability, scooped me up off the grass, I really didn’t mind. Being held in Dog’s jaw remined me of being connected to Mother and my siblings, of being held by an interconnected being.

It was while I was enjoying his sweet, slobbery embrace, I was reminded that Dog is not a bright creature. He is in fact actually extraordinarily dull. I’ve seen him smack his different limbs all across the yard, even run straight into the barrier at the back of the grassy area. So, I don’t know why I even thought that the gentle embrace would continue to be gentle, because before I knew it, I was being thrashed back and forth through the air, moving at a speed that really doesn’t look very quick from a distance, but yes, Dog can move. As he moved, that’s when Carrie, yelling at Dog to let me go, gave me my name. She’s so sweet and caring, she immediately stood, pointed, and yelled “DOG, PUT MR. STICK DOWN, THAT’s NOT NICE!” And it was peak thrash that Dog, listening to Carrie’s order, thrust into my current and final resting place, under the stairs that Jeff, Carrie, and Dog climb to leave the backyard. I’ve sat here in this dirt for eight full seasons, and I’m not sure how much longer I have.

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You see, I’ve gotten the chance over these seasons to observe Jeff, Carrie, and Dog in all their outstanding glory. Well, more specifically Carrie’s glory.

There are slots between the stairs leading up into the home that allow me to, only slightly obstructed, observe their lives. Dog hasn’t changes at all, but his idiocy is somewhat cute I’ll give him that, and I don’t blame him for my demise. Instead, I blame Jeff. Yes, I give Jeff credit only for creating Carrie, as I understand it, the more time Carrie spends with Jeff the more I worry actually. And yes, after all this time, I’m still holding a grudge against Jeff, he is the one who has banished me to this patch of dirt under the stairs, he has killed me. But, also, while slowly sinking into the dirt that I lay, I’ve seen the utter hypocrisy that Jeff lives. All the man does is talk. He talks, talks, talks, and in that blabber, he makes promises that he doesn’t mean and will never follow-through on. Also, he talks and paces out here, like he owns the place, with a complete disregard for where he steps, and what he hurts.

Carrie, even though she is small and I only see her on certain days, is so gracious with the time. When she walks down the steps into the yard, she is careful. She moves though the yard with grace, she doesn’t destroy, but instead she creates. She plants flowers, takes care of mother and my siblings, and nurtures every part of the yard like she is mother and the yard is the siblings. She doesn’t lie or give false promises; she cares and gives all she has to this backyard.

So yes, I loathe Jeff, and love Carrie, because as I lay under the stairs Jeff has proven to me that he talks but doesn’t act in a way that cares for this yard, and Carrie has proven to me that she is loves this yard, and she will take care of the yard, Mother, and my siblings when I’m gone.

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I think I, maybe, have one season left before I return fully to the soil that Mother sits in. The few leaves that I’d grown when I was still attached to Mother are things of the past, and my beautiful bark has nearly all peeled off to reveal my inner strings.

I was meant to grow, I wasn’t meant to sit stationary and observe this yard, so I’m almost excited to be done. I soon can rest, and then, hopefully, I can return to Mother, or another Mother, and do as I’m supposed to do. I want to bend up toward the light; to capture it in my leaves and revel in the glory of the energy it provides me and my Mother. I am afraid however, because I what if I’m disturbed, displaced, or destroyed again. This Jeff ruined me, and I can only imagine there are more like him out there, but, hopefully, there are more of these beings like Carrie.

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Now, there is an enormous downpour, more water fell than has ever fallen. I knew something was different, because Jeff was taking what looked like parts of another Mother and nailing them to the house in the yard for hours, and then he was gone. What followed his departure was just an onslaught of water. Usually, I would’ve welcomed the reminder of Mother and her roots, reaching into the soil to extract the water for me and my siblings, but this time, it was too much. There were great winds, cracklings of light and sound, and eventually, the soil was so drenched that I began to sink. I was being consumed by the ground, and I realized that this was it, I was over, at least in this form. But I look forward to the sweet embrace of the soil, surrounding me, and destroying me so that I may be reborn again. Hopefully, I’ll be reborn near Carrie, and or someone like Carrie. Hopefully, the world I end up in will be full of people who care for me.