Left to Give
I stood upon the hill, leaning against the Willow tree next to me. Strange how such a majestic beauty can be so divine in such an odd place. Nowhere near a source of constant water to keep it alive; would the closest thing to such a river be the stream about a mile down the old back road. Yet here it was. The grand old Willow standing strong without a care in the world seemingly overlooking the small views of the countryside past its hilltop view. In a sense I was jealous. I felt stupid and childish for feeling this jealousy at all, let alone it being against a tree. I was jealous how it managed to survive. I always fell hard when I tripped or slipped. But this tree, it never fell. It only stood. I want to be like this tree.
The long leaves fickle down and swish against my face and for a moment it startled me. Had the old tree felt my emotions? My jealousy towards it? Not possible. It's a tree. Just my silly imagination. I stopped my fidgeting and rested once again my back to the trunk. I closed my eyes for a moment. And my thoughts ran wild.
I saw the birds flying higher than before, higher than the clouds and the sky. And the fish dove deeper than before. The swam deep down to the darkest crevices of the ocean. And those far away in the small river? Well, they forced their way to the ocean. The bugs all hummed and whistled their tune at once in synchronization. The same rhythm all at the same designated time. And the grass grew all to the same height and let the air sweep them, and sing to their ears as the breeze filtered evenly. Everything; all the living creatures and aspects of this perfect life, grew to perfection.
My eyes opened suddenly.
The thought was too pure for me. My heart and mind wouldn't allow that to continue. So my body shut my thoughts out as usual. I sighed a heavy sigh and continued my way back to the small countryside house. Yet when I took that first step away from the willow, the grass seemed to have grabbed my feet. Capture them almost; signaling them to stay there and not leave that spot. For whatever reason, I listened to those tiny beating hearts of the grass blades and turned slowly back to the tree. I questioned why I did that but didn't mind. It wasn't all that bad taking a break from always working.
Soon an hour passed and my legs were falling asleep. I made my way to continue back home, but my legs collapsed in a perfect way that led me to sit down on the soft grass and the tree trunk. I gave in and realized I strained myself already. How weak I am. But then, I took in how comfortable this felt. The grass made a blanket for me, and the trunk of this old tree became a beating flame. Keeping me warm and relaxed. Soon I saw the day's light recede back to let the moon have some breathing time. At the time I didn't think of what this meant, but in the back of my mind I knew, I was late for supper. And if I didn't return soon, I would be in trouble.
Then I yawned. That was the last thing that happened that afternoon.
