A (Not So) Grand Escape
Like many children, I daydreamed of escape — of running away from the rules and routines of my parents. Similar to the young baron, Cosimo, in The Baron in the Trees by Italo Calvino, I yearned to break free from my childhood constraints and live among the trees. But this was the ‘90s, in boring, suburban California, not enchanting 18th century Italy. The farthest I fled was up a plum tree in our backyard. But flee I did, and often. This tree was not the grand tree you'd imagine for a whimsical escape; it was fairly meager. Its branches were scraggly and full of hard knots, leaving me scattered with scrapes and bruises, but those haphazard branches were ideal for climbing. Some arms were long, full of twists and turns, with little ledges to perch upon. And one was perfect for laying the entire width of my body. Many evenings, after dinner, I would sneak off to the tree, climb up its meandering limbs, and pretend it was my house or a castle — or sometimes, it was simply a good place to read a book.
Il Barone rampante (The Baron in the Trees, 1957). Drawing by Picasso, chosen by Italo Calvino.
In the summer, the tree would sometimes produce dark, earthy plums. Despite my urge to pick one and take a juicy bite, I knew better. The plums tasted terrible. Years later (much to my horror), my parents cut the tree down. It was impractical and caused a miserable, sticky mess. It didn't hold the same magic for them, and by the time I was old enough to recognize my feelings, I was an adult and far away from home. To this day, eating a plum sends me right back to those summer evenings, perched high on a branch, feet dangling happily, alone with my imagination.
Me, still hanging out in my beloved plum tree at 15.
This Is Just To Say
William Carlos Williams - 1883-1963
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
I had plans to write a lot more about summer escapes, plums, the mystical connections of food and memory — but life threw me a curveball, and this piece has been sitting stagnant for months. Now that fall is only a few days away; I’m not motivated to continue it. Instead of scrapping it all together (which, let’s be honest, I should do), I’ve decided to allow short, random stories to live on this site.
