Fish in a Tree

I say, “Well . . . alone is a way to be. It’s being by yourself with no one else around. And it can be good or bad. And it can be a choice. When my mom and brother are both working, I’m alone, but I don’t mind it.” I swallow hard. Shift in my seat. “But being lonely is never a choice. It’s not about who is with you or not. You can feel lonely when you’re alone, but the worst kind of lonely is when you’re in a room full of people, but you’re still alone. Or you feel like you are, anyway.”

“Can I help?” I ask.

“No offense. But I don’t really think so.”

“Okay,” I mumble.

“It’s just a problem that I can’t get out of my head. I feel like I won’t be able to relax until I find an answer.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I know sometimes when I have a problem, I talk it out with my brother or mom. Even if I don’t find an answer, I feel better anyway.”

“Well . . .”

I wait.

“I’ve just been wondering . . . if an insect is flying inside a moving train car, is it traveling faster than the train itself? And if the insect flies in the opposite direction that the train is moving in, is it then traveling more slowly than the train? Obviously, if the fly is on the wall, it is moving at the same speed. As long as it isn’t walking. But the movement within movement is a puzzle to me.”

Especially when you consider that ostriches run faster than horses, require less water to drink, and can use their legs and feet as weapons. They are fierce kickers with sharp claws. I, for one, would trade a horse for that. That’s just logical.”

“I’ve just been wondering . . . if an insect is flying inside a moving train car, is it traveling faster than the train itself? And if the insect flies in the opposite direction that the train is moving in, is it then traveling more slowly than the train? Obviously, if the fly is on the wall, it is moving at the same speed. As long as it isn’t walking. But the movement within movement is a puzzle to me.”