第56章 The Roof

The roof opened on a Tuesday. It happened while Eli was in the chamber, sitting with his back against the root, listening to the deep's song. The roof opened the way the east wing wall had opened, slowly, deliberately, the beams and shingles and tar paper separating along a line that followed the root's central trunk, and through the opening poured the light of the sky, gray and cold, the winter sky of a world that did not know what was happening beneath it. The root had reached the roof. The trunk, which had been as thick as Eli's torso a month ago, was now as thick as a man's body, and it rose from the floor of the chamber, through the packed earth, through the foundation, through the house, and it emerged through the roof, its upper branches spreading into the open air, and the branches were covered with the green-gold mold, and the mold caught the light and held it, and the light was different now, not the gray of the winter sky but a warmer light, a light that came from the mold itself, from the root, from the deep, a light that was the deep's way of touching the sky. The root had broken through. The deep had reached the surface. The deep was above the roof now, above the house, above the ground, and the deep was touching the sky, the way Nora had said it would, slowly, gently, with the patience of a thing that has been waiting for centuries. Eli climbed the stairs and stood in the hallway and looked up through the opening in the roof. The root's trunk rose through the center of the house like a pillar in a cathedral, and the branches spread above the house like a canopy, and the canopy was covered with the green-gold mold, and the mold caught the light, and the light was the deep's light, and the light was the deep's way of touching the sky. The house was no longer a house. It was a tree. The root was the trunk. The walls were the branches. The floor was the roots. The roof was the canopy. And the tree was the deep's body, and the body was the deep's way of reaching the surface, and the surface was the deep's destination, and the destination was the sky, and the sky was the deep's home. Nora came to the hallway and stood beside Eli and looked up at the root, at the trunk, at the branches, at the canopy, and she said, "It's beautiful." And it was. It was beautiful, in the way that a tree is beautiful, in the way that a forest is beautiful, in the way that the ground is beautiful when you see it for what it is, not a floor, not a surface, not a line between the living and the dead, but a living thing, a breathing thing, a growing thing, a thing that reaches for the sky and holds the roots and feeds the leaves and makes the world possible, the deep, the ground, the earth, the foundation of everything, and the foundation was beautiful, and the beauty was the deep's way of saying: I am here. I am the ground. I am the tree. I am the house. I am the deep, and the deep is beautiful, and the beauty is the song, and the song is the deep's voice, and the voice is the deep, and the deep is here. The roof was open. The root had reached the sky. And the deep, the ancient thing, the silent thing, the thing that had waited for so long that the waiting had become a kind of sleep, was awake now, was reaching now, was touching the sky now, and the touching was the deep's way of becoming what it had always been, the ground that holds the roots and feeds the leaves and makes the world possible, and the world was the deep's home, and the home was the keeping, and the keeping was the door, and the door was open. The opening in the roof was not a wound. It was a bloom. The root had grown through the roof the way a flower grows through a crack in a sidewalk, slowly, deliberately, with the patience of a thing that has all the time in the world. The root had pushed through the shingles and the tar paper and the wooden sheathing, and the sheathing had splintered and fallen away, and the root had emerged into the light, and the light was the deep's light, and the light was the deep's way of touching the sky. The root's upper branches spread above the house like a canopy, and the canopy was covered with the green-gold mold, and the mold caught the light and held it, and the light was the deep's light, and the light was the deep's way of reaching the sky, and the sky was the deep's home, and the home was the keeping, and the keeping was the door, and the door was open. The house was no longer a house. It was a tree. The root was the trunk. The walls were the branches. The floor was the roots. The roof was the canopy. And the tree was the deep's body, and the body was the deep's way of being in the world, and the being was the deep's way of touching the sky, and the touching was the deep's way of becoming what it had always been. Nora came to the hallway and stood beside Eli and looked up at the root, at the trunk, at the branches, at the canopy, and she said, "It's beautiful." And it was. It was beautiful, in the way that a tree is beautiful, in the way that a forest is beautiful, in the way that the ground is beautiful when you see it for what it is. The beauty was the deep's way of being visible, the deep's way of touching the light, the deep's way of saying: I am here, and I am beautiful, and the beauty is the deep's gift, the deep's way of showing itself to the world above, the deep's way of being known. The root's trunk rose through the center of the house like a pillar in a cathedral, and the branches spread above the house like a canopy, and the canopy was the deep's way of reaching the sky, and the sky was the deep's home, and the home was the keeping, and the keeping was the door, and the door was open. And the deep spoke, and the speaking was the beauty, and the beauty was the deep's way of being seen, and the seeing was the keeping, and the keeping was the door, and the door was open, and the deep was here. ---