“Whispers of the elders” was the prompt we wrote from today in writing group. It’s another rainy day, perfect for cozying up on the couch to sink into soft blanket and my creativity. Here’s what I wrote in response:

Tucked away on a forgotten street in the center of a small, lost coastal town is an unassuming tree that’s grown right into the cobblestone. It clings to the faded white stucco of the house on the corner and underneath its smooth reaching branches sits a bench.

Your little feet make their way to the bench, it calls to you in whispers of tinkling bells and the beat of wings – you know it will feel like mama’s hug the moment you lay your curly head down to stare up at the leaves. So you do.

The gray stone upon which you rest your back is cool compared to the heat of your sun-kissed skin. You close your eyes and the tree begins to speak. You listen as the ghost of warm brown hands begin to braid your hair in a way your tiny fingers just can’t get the hang of yet. The words soak into your heartbeat, your tears. They lay the world at your feet and bid you to walk.

“Baby, let your body be a compass and heed its direction.”

Having no idea what a compass was, you ask, “Like a map?” Not really sure how your body could be a map when most days it was a confusing jumble of feelings, longings, and hurts.

“Like a star – let it shine, find the things that make you feel bright on the inside and follow them.”

Blinking, you suppose you could follow a light. Chasing fireflies and sunsets were two of you favorite things to do. But what makes you feel bright on the inside? As if answering your unspoken question, the tree answers, “It’s love.”

“Find what you love and loves you – people, places, play. The hand that helps pull you up, the ear that listens, the strength that bears your burdens. Love is not just light, but also the silver lining of what’s hard.”

Daddy’s voice floats through my head, encouraging me to try again.

Brother singing me to sleep.

The memory of my grandmother  peering into my eyes and saying, “when the going gets tough, the tough get going.”

Here’s to being tough, and soft, and getting going.

xo, adrienne