Tree Trunk Grove

I placed my hand on the mossy tree trunk, wondering what kinds of things it had seen. I could tell the tree was an elder by how tall it stood, it hunched ever so slightly as if the stresses of their life were finally weighing down on them.

I continued down the familiar path I had taken hundreds of times before, tucking my hands into the pockets of my well worn jeans. As I wandered further into Tree Trunk Grove, I wondered if my life was as spectacular as some of these trees. They've seen births of wild deer, deaths of their fellow trees, and traveling humans much like myself.

I had always appreciated my grandmother living in the woods, though people from town had tried to warn her that in her age, it could be dangerous living alone. So far away from other people that if she was to get hurt no one would know.

I let a small smile pass through my thin lips. My grandmother always responded with: :"Well, I'd know." This is why I tried to make time to check on my grandmother every other day. I worked the opening shift at the town's only coffee shop, so this left me with plenty of time to amble through the trees and check in on the old woman.

I paused my stride as a baby deer came wobbling into my path. I made sure to freeze completely, even holding my breath as the mother deer came sweeping in behind the baby, both passing by without even noticing me. I took no offense. I'm sure most animals inhabiting this area would be so used to my scent, I was no longer detected as a threat.

I shrugged my shoulders and went on my way, removing one of my hands from my pocket and letting the soft flowers tickle my palm. I was tempted to pick a bushel and deliver them to grandmother, but I knew she would shake her head disapprovingly, saying: "We shouldn't pick beautiful things just because they're nice to look at, because soon they would die." This of course was common sense, but what the elder was trying to tell me was death was not a price she was willing to pay for beautiful things.

I spotted the roof of my grandmother's cottage in the distance, excitement tickling my belly at the thought of seeing her. A branch fell in the distance making a crashing sound that used to startle me all the time, but now I have grown use to the sudden, loud sound. When I would spend the night at grandmother's house as a young girl, I would stay up at night counting the crashes, ensuring they weren't coming any closer to the house.

In the morning when I would trudge to the breakfast table, looking weary, grandmother would say: "Darling, you must trust the woods. They will take care of you, allowing no harm to come to you."

So now as an adult I find myself walking the woods, day or night, with total ease. I trusted the trees, knowing they would never allow any harm to come my way. I would assume that is why three days ago the wind thrashed their branches, pushing against me as if to tell me:"Turn around!"

I spotted grandmother's basket full of herbs still sitting by her garden, filled with the same contents as three days ago. Strange. I stepped into the house, greeted by a warm breeze blowing in from the kitchen window. On the breakfast table I spotted the crystal cake stand still holding the chocolate cake grandmother baked for me three days ago for my birthday.

I took a seat at the table, helping myself to a slice of cake, wondering where grandmother had gone.