The Dryad

It was that time in the spring when the first slivers of snow began to dissolve and the sun rays reached out through the cold airs of the winter. In Central Park, the leaves were still missing from all the trees but the dirty globs of ice were still frozen to the curbs of Colombus Circle. Within the naked trees, stood a different tree. Perhaps its limbs were more curvy? The last leaves a more lush green? It was merely an Oak, but this tree stood alone amongst it’s plain brown companions. But, laying deep beneath the tree was something the New Yorkers could not see. There lay a Dryad- from centuries ago, an aged Greek tale. A young nymph, with perfect rounded locks and a porcelain face wrapped in a satin ice blue scarf. She lived her life, listening to the conversations within Central Park. She knew why Christina decided to break up with Seth, how Regina and Adam fell for each other, and even what happened between Lauren and her mom that ended their friendship forever. One time, a bird specialist lead a tour through her neighborhood, and she learned of robin’s eggs, pheasants’ mating calls, and that one sparrowhawk sighting of 1984. She soaked up the information like a sponge, as a mosquito savors its blood. For this was all she lived for, and all she could do, since the Oak was her prisoning home. She could understand the words of animals in the park- it was her special gift. She knew all about territorial disputes and mating drama which sometimes unraveled into a quite comedial entertainment. However, there was a sadness within her, that she could not leave the Oak. She would always remain the listener, the therapist, the boring one with no story of her own. She dreamed of herself meeting “the one”, owning that tiny white dog, and going to brunch at Sarabeth’s. A true tragedy, she felt, one she could not escape. A longing “nobody”, understood by all.