The Ax Forgot

The ax forgets, but the tree remembers.

We've all been both at some time or another. I know it, you know it--we all know it. We are all scarred by someone who was either never aware of it or simply has forgotten it all together. We are all cruel sometimes, thoughtlessly or thoughtfully. Intentionally, unintentionally...doesn't matter. The driving force behind the ax's swing matters only in its relation to the apology, because it's the apology that matters. But how are you supposed to apologise for something you have clearly forgotten?

It amazes me how completely ignorant an ax can be of what it did. How can you chop someone in half and not notice? How can you chop someone in half and somehow think that everything will be fine? A chopped tree is a chopped tree.

Of course, that's where the metaphor breaks down, because in real life, people can make amends. An ax can never make the tree whole again.

I like to think that people can be made whole again. In fact, that's the basic premise of my life right now--ED broke me, I'm fixing me. ED's a part of me, so only I can fix what he broke. But not all of my broken parts were broken by ED. Not all of my broken parts are parts I can fix by myself.

It's just kind of hilarious, because there's the tree, all broken, mulch and leaves and disembodied branches lying all around its fallen hulk of a trunk--and there's the ax, warm and cozy in the woodcutter's cottage, prized by its owner, completely oblivious to the damage it caused.

So what are we, then? A mutilated tree, chopped once and for all? An oblivious ax? Or are we people, capable of rebuilding?


The difference is that axes and trees can't talk...