I was standing in our driveway aghast, taking in the ugly sight before me.
My trees, they were all gone.
The ones that have graced the sides of our hilly driveway for generations – destroyed.
Even the one that we had to take down a couple of years ago because it was dead, its regrowing stump – gone.
I looked behind me and the weeping willow that seemed like it would never die – vanished. Stump, roots, and all.
Whoever took our trees, they were good. Evil, but damn good at getting rid of the evidence.
The place where our trailer sat, now just one big muddy, slopping hill.
Rain scratched at my face. My anger rising so high that I could see the steam rise after each raindrop hit.
I was standing with my family, trying my best not to lose control of my wrath.
The trees, they were all gone.
The green foliage that surrounded those trees, nothing but mud.
I couldn’t believe it.
My home, my sanctuary, shattered.
“How DARE you ravage the place I escaped to from my abusive father. How DARE you pillage and plunder my trees, my safe space, my welcome home.”
I yelled at whoever would listen.
The trees, they were all gone.
Nothing but mud and tears left in their wake.
I stormed off, trying not to lose control. I have worked SO HARD to channel my anger for good. Or at the very least, in a much more appropriate manner than screaming at whoever finds themselves near me when my unruly beast is unleashed.
I walked back to my home. No. I stomped back to my home, in complete disbelief.
I stomped up the 3 porch steps and immediately headed straight to the punching bag hanging from the top deck, not even questioning why the rain gutter was right behind it.
I was about to unleash hell and fury on this punching bag, rain gutter be damned.
I stomped up to that punching bag and channeled all of that intense rage and fury into my fist, and I swung.
“Ow. Why did you hit me?”
The moment my fist connected with that punching bag, I knew.
I attempted to nonchalantly play it off. But I knew. And so did he.
“Did I cheat on you again?”
I remained as still as possible, still pretending to be asleep. But not for long.
Because then the giggles started.
I couldn’t contain the giggles. And then he couldn’t either.
I couldn’t hide from the truth anymore.
I punched my husband in the face because I was saving the trees…in my dream.
“Thank goodness I put my arm over my face a second before you punched. I think you 1-2’d me.”
In between fits of laughter, I did check on him. I am not a monster.
“I am so sorry, honey. I was trying to save the trees. hehehehehehehehehe.”
“I will tell you more when I wake up later.”
Narrator: she told him more immediately because she couldn’t stop laughing and they weren’t going back to bed anytime soon.
“Mom, can you unlock my tablet?”
Apparently, nobody in this house was getting any more sleep except for the 13-year-old.
“Do you even remember why you punched me in the chest 17 and a half years ago?”
“Did you just do math, honey?”
“Did that hurt?”
“No, I don’t remember why I punched you in the chest 17 and a half years ago during my sleep when you were just a rebound at the time as we slept on my twin bed in my dorm. But you should have taken that as a red flag and ran…”
And the uncontrollable laughter began again.
At about 4:45 am, I finally stopped laughing, wiped away the tears, took some deep breaths, and tried to go back to sleep.
But I couldn’t get over the fact that I punched my husband, while I was sleeping, AGAIN, so I gave up sleeping.
At least I was laying on the arm that I channeled all of that intense rage and fury into, so I technically barely punched him. And! his arm was laying on top of his face.
To make amends, and because the 10-year-old was already awake and didn’t need the 30 minutes to get ready for school, we went to Dutch Bros, ordered a coffee for daddy, and brought it home to him before he left for work, and before I dropped the kiddo off at school.
I am just gonna call it now. The moment I see him after work, I am going to fall apart laughing.
SAVE THE TREES!
In the meantime, Adventure on with Curiosity and be careful of your sleeping limbs,
~ Kelly “Beast” Steele
p.s. All of my trees are still standing tall and proud and ready for spring to come. Proof:
p.p.s. never a dull moment around here. Not even in our sleep.
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