the crone: choosing

[this is part 2 of the blog "choosing," begun thursday, june 18]

the old woman came to her as in a dream, though she could still see the doctor between her legs, her boyfriend at her side. she had a peaceful and terrible face. jess felt something in her heart loosen and release. she felt as though she were filled with space, and the woman looked steadily into her eyes.

then jess was in a dream: a parking lot filled with shiny cars. one brave lemon tree struggled to survive, fragrant and striving through a crack in the pavement. it had blossomed a hundred perfect flowers; it blessed the machinery and death and waste all around it. it redeemed them, somehow.

the sun flew across the sky; the tree's shadow slanted radically from side to side. days and nights passed like seconds. the infinitesimal growth of the tree became perceptible and fluid; a long, green stretch. a bee attended; a hummingbird. to where did they fly away?

the parking lot seemed to stretch forever: a hot, steel monoculture. jess saw the blossoms fade and drop, replaced by dozens of tiny green fruits.

the fruits bulged briefly, then dropped, one by one, to the dirt. the tree was not yet ready to bear fruit. it kept growing.

jess opened her eyes to see her boyfriend smiling gently at her. an old woman's long hair brushed her upturned cheek. "it is a harsh wilderness," a voice whispered. jess cried softly, awake and aware. her heart was light.