Once upon a time, there was a forest full of sentient trees. The trees, though rooted, could move around within the radius of their roots, and they would dance evenings when the stars calmed the world.
The trees had to be careful to not let any humans see them dancing. They had watched many species of mobile creatures taken from the woods live and dead and put to a purpose not their own.
So the trees danced slowly at first and listened with their roots for the vibrations of a human foot.
In the town close by, a sick woman was sleeping. Her 5 year old daughter sat next to the bed with her head on the quilt watching her mother. She didn't remember the days when her mom wasn't confined to the bed, when she would drag her lover into the rain and sway to beat of the raindrops.
Her dad told her about those days. The little girl always imagined a slow twirl and short hops in all of the new puddles the rain had made.
That morning she had heard someone say her mother would never leave the bed, so she sat and she watched.
She heard her father go to bed, and she crept out of the house and ran to the woods. Sometimes she saw her father talking to the sky about her mother, pleading, and she decided if she added her voice to his, maybe her mom would get out of bed.
She went to the edge of the woods and started talking to the air. Her entire life poured out of her mouth, and though it was a small voice and a short life, her tale moved the trees. And they moved for her.
With the voice of the wind, the trees told the little girl that the next night after her father had gone to sleep, she should bring her mother outside to their backyard. The task would be difficult, but they had faith that the little girl could do it. She told them she was frightened but she would get her mother outside when they asked.
The next night, the little girl waited patiently by her mother until her father's tell-tale snores filled the house. She jostled her mother awake and begged her to come outside.
Her mother, weak, tried to protest but gave in to the tiny girl's small demand. With her daughter's help, she rolled over and sat up and came to a wobbly stance.
Slowly, they made their way to back door in the kitchen. The little girl leaned her mother against the refrigerator and opened the door. There, not 20 feet away, the whole forest waited.
Her mother gasped. The little girl calmed her mother's fears, and the largest oak wrapped is leafiest branch around the mother and drew her outside among the trees.
And they danced. Every tree and the mother and the daughter.
The next morning when the little girl's father went to wake her up and check on his wife, he found and empty bed.
He ran through the house and found no one. Next he went to the front yard. Nothing. Then through the house and into the backyard.
There in the middle of the yard, laughing, was his wife and his child. His wife, though still weak, moved in the familiar rainy dances they had shared. His tears flowed freely when she told him "I danced." The trees in the woods heard through the wind their joy, and in the light of day, they danced unafraid.
this story was written for a co-worker who was having a bad day and needed to be distracted.
The trees had to be careful to not let any humans see them dancing. They had watched many species of mobile creatures taken from the woods live and dead and put to a purpose not their own.
So the trees danced slowly at first and listened with their roots for the vibrations of a human foot.
In the town close by, a sick woman was sleeping. Her 5 year old daughter sat next to the bed with her head on the quilt watching her mother. She didn't remember the days when her mom wasn't confined to the bed, when she would drag her lover into the rain and sway to beat of the raindrops.
Her dad told her about those days. The little girl always imagined a slow twirl and short hops in all of the new puddles the rain had made.
That morning she had heard someone say her mother would never leave the bed, so she sat and she watched.
She heard her father go to bed, and she crept out of the house and ran to the woods. Sometimes she saw her father talking to the sky about her mother, pleading, and she decided if she added her voice to his, maybe her mom would get out of bed.
She went to the edge of the woods and started talking to the air. Her entire life poured out of her mouth, and though it was a small voice and a short life, her tale moved the trees. And they moved for her.
With the voice of the wind, the trees told the little girl that the next night after her father had gone to sleep, she should bring her mother outside to their backyard. The task would be difficult, but they had faith that the little girl could do it. She told them she was frightened but she would get her mother outside when they asked.
The next night, the little girl waited patiently by her mother until her father's tell-tale snores filled the house. She jostled her mother awake and begged her to come outside.
Her mother, weak, tried to protest but gave in to the tiny girl's small demand. With her daughter's help, she rolled over and sat up and came to a wobbly stance.
Slowly, they made their way to back door in the kitchen. The little girl leaned her mother against the refrigerator and opened the door. There, not 20 feet away, the whole forest waited.
Her mother gasped. The little girl calmed her mother's fears, and the largest oak wrapped is leafiest branch around the mother and drew her outside among the trees.
And they danced. Every tree and the mother and the daughter.
The next morning when the little girl's father went to wake her up and check on his wife, he found and empty bed.
He ran through the house and found no one. Next he went to the front yard. Nothing. Then through the house and into the backyard.
There in the middle of the yard, laughing, was his wife and his child. His wife, though still weak, moved in the familiar rainy dances they had shared. His tears flowed freely when she told him "I danced." The trees in the woods heard through the wind their joy, and in the light of day, they danced unafraid.
this story was written for a co-worker who was having a bad day and needed to be distracted.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment