For Des

Kate suddenly threw her arms wide, & as she did they stiffened, & her fingers spread & multiplied and then burst gloriously into twigs and foliage. She grew up, up, up, and it was like she was stretching her back after a long sleep. She closed her eyes - there were so many other ways to sense and feel. Her toe roots went down, down, down, winding and finding their way through layers of delicious cold black earth as if it were mile-deep chocolate and at the same time spreading outward around her in a huge underground web, threading between pebbles and rocks and other roots, rubbing elbows with friendly worms, drinking in delicious chilled clear water that flowed funnily up through her legs and all through her body to feed her finger-branches and her leaf-hair.

The wind flowed past her, and she swayed with it like it was music. She grew so tall she could stick her crown up above the mist and feel the warmth of bright sunlight on it. It felt wonderful, like sunshine always does, except that now she was a tree, so she wasn't just feeling the sunlight, she was eating it - it was her food. And it tasted incredible. And when it rained, she drank the rain, and that was delicious, too.

 

Her branches touched the tips of other trees' branches, and their roots mingled underground. It was the calmest Kate had ever felt in her life. If she'd had to stand here like this as a girl she would've been bored silly, but as a tree she was never bored. She wasn't waiting for anything, or wishing she were somewhere else, she was just here, just now, all the time. Weeks went by while Earth spun like a carousel and the sun and moon and stars wheeled dizzily overhead. Day and night changed places like a game. It wasn't all fun; insects and caterpillars fed on her. Birds pecked holes in her. Lightning licked down and scarred or demolished trees seemingly at random.

Autumn came and she let go of her leaves - it was a relief, really, as though she'd been wearing a lovely ball gown that had gotten slightly uncomfortable and now she could finally take it off. When winter arrived she felt the cold but didn't mind it in the slightest, though sometimes the weight of ice made her ache. She dozed. Then spring came, and she was washed by fresh rains and warmed by the new sun, and she came alert again. Her gorgeous leaves burst out like the feathers of a beautiful green bird. Years later, when she tasted champagne for the first time, she would remember being a tree in springtime. Summer was a grand feast of sunlight - but almost as soon as it started, something unexpected happened. 

Her head dropped below the mist again, slipping down away from the sun. Her leaves and her branches - her magnificent, multitudinous branches - were withering, and her roots were letting go of the soil, pulling back up out of it like a ship weighing anchor, preparing to set sail again.

And then she opened her eyes, and there she was. She was Kate.

Many old voices thought together in Kate's head: Remember this.

(The Silver Arrow, Lev Grossman)