Tom Goes Home
By Andy Valencia
Previous parts of the story are available at vashonloop.com/tom/
Tom, the weed who accidentally rooted onto the bumper of a car, is on a long journey. Parked at a campground, he went to seed without dying, and is getting to know his new children.
Tom spent the rest of the day teaching his new children about the world. They knew very little, so this was mostly introducing words. Tom would say a word like “Water!” and then various plants in the campground would repeat it. “Water!”, “Water!”, and – sometimes a tree would help – “WATER.” Then his new babies would say “Water!”, “Water!”, “Water!”, “Water!” and “Tim!”.
That one weed just didn’t have the knack of new words, and Tom wondered if it was OK. (But that weed – Tim – grew up to be a uniquely heroic weed, and perhaps someday I’ll tell his story.)
Tom went to sleep with plans to tell his children some stories of his home, but when he awoke, the people were already busy filling his car with all sorts of boxes and other items. Oh no! This was what they did before one of their long journeys. Tom told his children as many things as he could as the car filled up, and although his young didn’t really understand, the other plants promised that they would remember and teach them when they were older.
And then the car started, and rolled away, with Tom saying “Goodbye!” and his children saying “Bye!”, “Bye!”, “Bye!”, “Bye!”, and “Tim!”
They were rolling along at high speed again, and Tom settled into a dreamlike state to pass the time. He was startled back to wakefulness as his car slowly passed a truck. So far as he could tell, the world was full of trucks. But this one was something new.
Most trucks had an enormous box on back. He’d never had a chance to discover what was inside them, and there were so many that he now just ignored them entirely. Instead of a box, this truck’s back was just a large metal cradle, and laying lengthwise in the cradle were 20 or more logs.
In the world of plants, trees were held in a bit of awe by all the other plants. They were so tall, and they lived almost forever, and they talked among each other in a deep rumble-like thunder. But trees grow up, and the sight of so many lengths of tree laying sideways made Tom speak to them before his shyness took hold.
“Hello, Trees! What are you doing back there?”
And, amazingly, one of the tree trunks answered him.
“Hum hum hoom hum hum, hello little plant. We are going away.”
Tom pondered that. When a weed went away, it meant a bird or a deer had eaten you up. A deer couldn’t have even seen the top of this tree when it was still standing.
“Why are you sideways? You are going away to where?”
He couldn’t believe a tree was still talking to him!
“Oh man man man needs us us us. Bites us and down we fall! Then off to become boards, and houses. Or…,” for the first time a bit of emotion came into his voice, “firewood.”
And Tom understood a little bit. He had seen what a house looked like on the outside. He couldn’t imagine how, but these enormous tough trees could turn into houses. He’d even heard about burning, which for plants usually meant dry grass catching on fire.
He’d never realized it before, but these trees were plants – just like him. So much bigger, and yet they lived their lives until the end was upon them. Weeds could be cut, or eaten, or trampled. Trees, too, were cut and fell, and now here they were lying stacked, carried away to become the stuff of houses.
“When I’m gone, I’ll have children all over the driveway!”
The tree rumbled with humor for the first time.
“Mohoho hohoho hum ho! Trees have children as far as you can see! Children to cover mountains!”
They were now past the truck, and Tom listened to the deep laugh of the tree, with the vision in his mind of endless green stands of trees, covering whole mountains.
The days and nights went by, and Tom really wasn’t paying attention any more. He had seen so much, and he wanted to watch his babies grow, but instead his car rolled on and on away from them. He was, after all, just a small weed in this big world, and he was getting tired and sad. He didn’t know the word, but he was homesick.
Suddenly, he was alert. That smell! It was wet and salty. He hadn’t noticed it before this journey, but now he realized it was a smell he’d associated with some of his car’s trips. There was a bump and then a watery rolling motion which he also remembered. He hardly dared hope.
Bump again, and then more driving. The car turned in at a familiar stretch of road, and there was his barn! And the house! And there was the big old weed Samsamrotatidion! And lots of the other weeds he knew so well.
They started calling “Tom!” and even the grass was calling “Sssstttooommmmsssss.” The car stopped, and the people were busy taking all sorts of things out.
Finally, they were finished unloading, and went in their house. Quiet descended, but Tom could see all the plants waiting for him to speak.
“Do I have some stories to tell you!”
He was still telling about his big adventure when the sun set and he needed to sleep. He missed his babies and hoped they were OK, but he was also very glad to be home.
