A Limb in Limbo

This picture has nothing to do with this post. Actually, that’s not true; it caught my eye on my way up the hill to start my morning constitutional. I imagine that at maturity, this plant will have a row of red blooms replacing the green pods, with a different texture. I like the red tufts off the long row of green nuggets, though. It's vibrant—nature's nod to the power of complementary colors.

The hill is the start of the walk. It's not a big hill, but it's also not a little one—enough to get the bronchi open, but not enough to leave you winded. Not enough lung space to sing, but if there were another person, one could chat. Atop the hill, there is a view, but it is a view of the lowlands—the houses below the nice ones. The ramblers have the same footprint, just rotated ninety degrees from the previous, making every fourth one the same. But up on the hill, it’s different. The houses all have at least a second story, and none of them retain any of the charm from the time they were built. These houses could be on any street in America; the only requirement is that they were remodeled in the last fifteen years.

I turned the corner, staring up at the clouds as usual, the branches above from the passing trees breaking into the picture every once in a while. And there I saw it. There, resting uncomfortably, was a fallen limb—like a slightly warped, upside-down "Y.” A limb in limbo, a lateral branch in a vertical pickle. Nature's plans differed from the remaining branches' plan; this guy wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe the other branches picked on this one—maybe that’s why he’s broken. Maybe they are so cruel as to not be done with him yet, holding him for as long as possible for some extended hectoring. The fall to the ground and, forgone composting, was inevitable, but “at least then he had his pride,” he thought.

But until that time comes, he is stuck. Nature is showing its sophomoric sense of humor, suspending the branch by its crotch, in a time-lapse. I felt for that guy and wondered how much longer he would have to endure this humiliation. Sure, the branch had no testicles and likely didn’t feel physical pain from the situation, but think of the emotional damage. Stuck there in front of all his peers—even the sympathetic ones couldn’t ignore his patheticness. It could happen to any branch, but really, they all knew it would only happen to him. He was always a little awkward, and although not weak, he wasn’t strong enough to realize his inner clout. If there was a branch that would allow for such an embarrassing scene, it had to be him. Of course, those were the sympathetic ones—few and far between, for sure. Most of the other branches more than enjoyed laughing at his misfortune.