It was fall November 10 when my sister Arbre was born. She had small green eyes, and beautiful blond hair.
As the years of holding her and taking her for walks passed, I began to think that in some way she wasn’t my sister. But I was there when she was born! And now she would look into my eyes with big eyes but no words, and I would still wonder if she wasn’t my real sister, like she was given to my mom to take care of. Mom said that Arbre was mute, and unable to speak.
Arbre was six when the truth came to me.
It was a Monday in August, 2:00 AM in the morning, when I awoke to footsteps outside the front window: it was Arbre. I followed her out to the front, to the big sugar maple. There she spoke a windy word, and then she was gone. 5 minutes later I saw a vision of Arbre in the belly of her real mother, the maple tree! I knew the truth but I wasn’t happy: I was sad. I was sad because she wasn’t really my sister.
The next morning, I could not stop looking at that mother maple tree.
I was certain that this wasn’t a dream, but yes, it very well could have been. However, the very next morning I awoke at 2:00 AM. I followed Arbre out to the front and to the big sugar maple yet again. There she spoke a windy word, and then she was gone. 5 minutes later I saw the same vision of Arbre in the belly of the sugar maple.
That afternoon I knew that this was not a dream. I went to Arbre and said, “Arbre, where is your mother?” She pointed to my mother. I said, “No, your real mother.” She pointed out the window at the big old maple. “Are you the child of a tree?” I asked. She nodded. Then she started making words with wind. It sounded like she was saying, “Grow me tall, grow me strong, let the birds be with me.”
Then her hair began to turn a greenish color, and her skin began to darken. I was terrified and amazed at the same time. My sister was a tree.