Day Eight

Last Tuesday, when the girls and I got out of the car from school, Hadley said, “Mom! Get over here and look at this tree!” She sounded freaked out and being the nature lover that I’m not, I was already in over-reacting mode when I pivoted and turned back towards what my daughter wanted me to see.

The tree looked like it was covered in fur, and the fur was moving, and it wasn’t from the wind. Hundreds of thousands of bugs covered its trunk and branches and I thought I was going to pass out from the sight.

“What are they?” Hadley and Harper asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“What are they doing?” Hadley and Harper asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Are they a non-native species?” Hadley asked, to which Harper and I said, “Huh?”

First of all, who cares if they’re non-native? All bugs, whether they’re supposed to be here or not, freak me out. Second of all, anytime you use the word “species” around me, plan for  me to turn the other way running. This is exactly what I did. With the girls, of course. What kind of mother do you think I am?

“Get in the house! Quick!” I said. Then, when Hadley and Harper were safe inside, I did what every normal human would do: I took about a half a dozen pictures with my phone and texted Jesse with captions like these: THESE ARE F*&@ing OUTSIDE OUR HOUSE! WTF ARE THESE THINGS?!?!  WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME!?!?! I THINK WE ARE BEING ATTACKED!!!!!

For exactly seven days these bugs were on the tree outside of our house. Over the weekend, my parents visited and I showed my mom, in the always calm manner that I do when things freak me out, and within minutes she diagnosed what they were. (She is brave enough to Google things. I never, ever, EVER Google anything. Not even things like, “How to give yourself a french manicure” because I will find a way that I could die. It’s a special talent of mine, finding death.)

“They’re tree lice,” she told me.

“WTF are tree lice?” I screamed. This is not true. I would never, ever use this language around my mother. I wasn’t allowed to say, “I have to pee,” or, “This sucks.” You think she’d tolerate my using the mother of all swear words around her?

“They don’t cause any harm,” she told me. “They feed off the tree, then leave. You can spray them with a hose and they’ll all fly away in a swarm.”

A swarm? I’m sorry. W.T.F.? (My dad is going to look up what this means, and never read anything of mine ever again. I’m sorry, dad.)

I don’t want them to swarm. Flying tree lice sounds terrifying. Besides, they don’t cause any harm to the tree. They just take what they need from it, then leave. I decided to leave them alone.

Yesterday, when the girls and I got in the car and they were gone. No sign at all that they were ever there. The tree outside looked the same as it always did: grayish-white bark, dark brown branches, brand new spring green leaves. You’d never know that less than twenty-four hours ago it was Tolkien inspired.

I can’t say that I miss them, but I wonder where they all went and what they’re doing now. I also wonder about that tree. Is it really OK? I suppose the tree has no choice but to just stand there while bugs take what’s good from it. Still, it’s comforting to me to know that’s one of the things the tree was made for; to provide for something growing. It’s also nice to know that after the bugs left, the tree is still standing beautiful and tall. Perhaps more so because of what it’s been through.

We were in the computer lab again today. Remember those boys throwing the stones? Three of them took a while than the rest to pack up, so I waited. I like to say goodbye and have a good day to all of them if I have the chance. They were talking about basketball as they shoved papers into their backpacks.

“Mrs. Feyen, who do you want to win the finals?” one of them asked.

“Ummm, the Bulls?”

They all laughed.

“I don’t know anything about basketball anymore,” I told them. “I saw Michael Jordan play once, though.”

“In real life?” they asked, holding the door for me as we all walked outside.

“In real life,” I said. Then, “Thank you for holding the door for me.”

I don’t think those bugs take everything and leave nothing behind. I bet there’s something inside that tree that’ll be forever different because of this spring interaction. I’m going to believe that she took whatever invisible things they left and used it to grow. Forever changed, forever stronger because of what she’s been through.