Squirrel

I’m standing in the field, only this time it’s spring. There’s small green shoots all over the place making their way through last year’s dead growth. The breeze flicks my hair across my face and the sun warms my bare toes. There are fluffy clouds slowly making their way across the sky.

I move to clear the hair from my eyes and suddenly I’m falling. I’m falling metre after metre. My heart races with fear and excitement. The wind rushes up at my back. I grasp at tree branches as they pass me by but can’t get a hold on anything.

The ground is moving closer and closer until smack I land on my feet. I stand there for a second before scurrying back up the tree to try all over again.

I’m outside of my body, looking at the creature I just was. It’s small with a bushy little tail and little hands that can hold nuts and tree branches alike. I recognize it right away from Mama’s art: this is a squirrel.

Squirrel is playing in the trees when I hear a familiar voice call out:

“Only ten minutes, okay George?” It’s great-grandma Gertrude.

“Okay, mom!” George calls back.

He’s taller this time, maybe 11 or 12, and his brown jacket doesn’t quite make it to the ends of his wrists anymore. He’s wearing runners and jeans this time and his open jacket flaps in the wind.

George runs into the forest and comes straight for me. Or rather, straight for the tree I’m perched in. His awkward limbs find a decent pace as he jogs over.

Before Squirrel can react and run away, George reaches out his hand. There’s something bright and red in his palm. I recognize them right away. Squirrel moves closer to investigate and realises George is holding a handful of berries out as an offering.

I’m back in the mind of the squirrel and I see these berries, bright and juicy. It could be a trap, they could be poisonous. But everyone in the forest seems to trust George, even Fox tolerates him sometimes. And I am hungry after that long fall.

I reach out one of my little paws and take a single berry. I nibble on it gently. It’s sweet and juicy. I run to place it in my home and come back for another. One berry at a time, I hoard these juicy rubies in my home. Until the last one, when I sit on a branch and nibble on the berry, turning it in my hands. Its deep red sugar energises me. I can feel my heart going faster and I start to vibrate just a little.

George retracts his hand. “Have a good day, little one.” And just like that, he runs back home, coat tails following him like a cape.

I’m outside everything again. I can see George entering his home and returning to his homework. I can see Squirrel darting up the tree. And just like that, I can see many more squirrels darting up many other trees. There are dozens of them, running everywhere I can see.

My particular Squirrel stops to chat with a friend, their chatter filling the air with squeaks I’ve not heard before. They sound joyous, but also incredibly high-pitched.

Others are gathering supplies already for the winter to come in months. Some are looking for the stashes they didn’t find under the winter snow. Others yet are lounging on branches, enjoying the warming spring sun.

My view expands until I can see the whole farm. It’s covered in squirrels, all happy and running up and down trees to their hearts’ content.