For years I’ve watched the two coconut trees - tall, thin, towering over 60 feet high and 15 feet apart, tapering towards the crown with few branches and bundles of coconuts out of reach of even the best climbers. As I swam on my back in the Bay towards the open sea, I watched the coconut trees, swaying in the wind, yet seemingly stable and safe, never fearful that they would fall.
The coconut trees have always been there, at least for 60 years, as I remember them from childhood. The coconut trees have weathered the elements of the Caribbean: rain, sun, sea surge, storms, hurricanes, and even the fishermen light fires underneath them for ‘cook-ups’. I don’t think any coconuts fell down in Solidarity or Shame when The Revolution erupted on the island in 1979. The coconut trees were landmarks in the Bay, a couple together, but each swaying as the wind blew. When I went for a swim, I’d put my clothes between them for safety - out of reach of the waves, and as a guide back to the shore.
When I went to the Bay yesterday, I immediately noticed that the trees were down - two long darkened trunks lying from the shrubs, across the stones and into the sea being thrashed by the waves. Eventually they coconut trees will rot away from both ends. The roots will be foraged by ants, sand insects and pests, and the tips eroded by the sea but not before the children have tired with playing on the trunks - running up and down on them to show off their balancing skills. I suspect the sea will claim the coconut trees and they will become driftwood to land on another shore or dissolved by the salty sea water.
But how long will this cycle of nature continue if left to wither of its own accord? As I listen to and watch my father’s confusion during the night caused by his dementia, I worry about the progression of the disease. And I observe my mother, the second half of this human couple, as she toils by his side. I hope that the coconut tree trunks will sail on the open sea forever. I hope for a natural medicine for dementia to bring relief to my dad and solace for my mum so that, like the coconut trees before they fell down, my parents become upright and strong again, the stability in our lives when we drifted.