After the Storm Bemidji, Minn Driving into the town, I went past hundreds of trees bent or broken. The hurricane winds had taken down the weakest ones easily, strong ones too. Later, I’d find out later we bombed Iran that day. From my cabin I’d listen to a former president say how we shouldn’t have done it, although he didn’t use the word “we.” War ought to be avoided, he said, on account of civilians who are just trying to live decent lives. That man has his faults but I always thought he was kind-hearted. The wind was neutral when it split the 100-year-old basswood in two. I imagine some people would lay their hands on the rough bark and mourn. Others would be excited to blitz the timber with their chainsaws and earn a little OT. Most would bend their heads in reverence. My parents met that president once. My mother wore a smart pink suit, which made her look fantastic in the paper the next day. They never liked him like I did. But agreed they had witnessed his power, believed he could make anyone feel important. He’s the kind of guy who cares that bombs kill people. The grief of the town and its storm-torn forests infiltrated me. Driving back home, I slammed on my brakes to miss a deer and instead of smiling for the fortune of missing, I cried for the three dead ones I had already seen. The trees hold no anger for the winds. In their deaths, some spread seeds for posterity. I kept thinking of what would happen if a bomb entered that town, instead of a storm. How the trees wouldn’t know. They would offer their seeds anyway. But the grief would take us down.
Mary Christine Kane
Mary Christine Kane grew up in Buffalo, New York and spent many days at her grandparents’ house who lived in Lakeview, New York, a block from Lake Erie. They ate perch her uncle caught from the lake and spent summer days at the beach where Mary and her brother would comb the sand for sea glass and shells. She began college at SUNY Brockport, by Lake Ontario, and now lives in Saint Paul, Minn. where it’s a short drive to Lake Superior. She visits often.
Mary works as a digital marketing manager and is a regular storyteller at Moth StorySLAMs. Agraduate of Hamline University’s MFA program, her writing has appeared in The Sun Magazine,HuffPost, Cream City Review, Bluestem and elsewhere. Mary’s poetry chapbook is called Between the Stars Where You Are Lost. Inspired by her animal rescue volunteer work, Mary also frequently writes about cats and is a council member for the Cat Writers’ Association.
She can be found online at marychristinekane.com.
Insta: @mary_christine_writer