But She Needs Me More Than She

There's A Tree That Grows In Brooklyn. Some People Call It The Tree Of Heaven. No Matter Where Its Seed Falls, It Makes A Tree Which Struggles To Reach The Sky. It Grows In Boarded-up Lots And Out Of Neglected Rubbish Heaps. It Grows Up Out Of Cellar Gratings. It Is The Only Tree That Grows Out Of Cement. It Grows Lushly . . . Survives Without Sun, Water, And Seemingly Without Earth. It Would Be Considered Beautiful Except That There Are Too Many Of It.

She Was Made Up Of More, Too. She Was The Books She Read In The Library. She Was The Flower In The Brown Bowl. Part Of Her Life Was Made From The Tree Growing Rankly In The Yard. She Was The Bitter Quarrels She Had With Her Brother Whom She Loved Dearly. She Was Katie's Secret, Despairing Weeping. She Was The Shame Of Her Father Stumbling Home Drunk. She Was All Of These Things And Of Something More...it Was What God Or Whatever Is His Equivalent Puts Into Each Soul That Is Given Life - The One Different Thing Such As That Which Makes No Two Fingerprints On The Face Of The Earth Alike.

Brooklyn Was A Dream. All The Things That Happened There Just Couldn't Happen. It Was All Dream Stuff. Or Was It All Real And True And Was It That She, Francie, Was The Dreamer?

Someday You'll Remember What I Said And You'll Thank Me For It." Francie Wished Adults Would Stop Telling Her That. Already The Load Of Thanks In The Future Was Weighing Her Down. She Figured She'd Have To Spend The Best Years Of Her Womanhood Hunting Up People To Tell Them That They Were Right And To Thank Them.

The Library Was A Little Old Shaby Place. Francie Thought It Was Beautiful. The Feeling She Had About It Was As Good As The Feeling She Had About Church. She Pushed Open The Door And Went In. She Liked The Cmbined Smell Of Worn Leather Bindings, Library Past And Freshly Inked Stamping Pads Better Than She Liked The Smell Of Burning Incense At High Mass.