Eleanor's Tree

Eleanor needed to think. The burdens of life were encroaching on her and their squatting was cluttering her mind. She felt sluggish and hindered and needed to break free of that restrictedness somehow.

When she needed head space, she sought open space and booked herself an Air BNB. "Walks in nature close by" was one of its draws, only 40 minutes from home. An easy and welcome retreat.

The small cabin was a delight, down a track. A battalion of trees stood firm to one side; the view was wide, of fields and water and small houses nestling in the valleys, off in the distance.

Idyllic.

She could already feel herself uncoiling.

Work had been getting to her. Unsuccessful dating was eroding her confidence. She'd found a lump in her breast.

She needed to be with herself, just herself and shut it all out.

She needed to breathe.

She decided to explore the woods. The sound of her steady footsteps through the forest floor debris mirrored the beat of her heart. She embraced the rhythm of being. Leaves whispered their greetings as the wind stroked them. Birds fluttered, the earthy smell of nature's repetitive organic process filled her nostrils and gave her a connectedness to the world around her that fed her soul. Mushrooms emerged from the niches in fallen logs, clustered protectively together in layered wood, and the skittering of creatures appealed to her senses, lifting her away from the constraints of her problems.

They would have to be faced but not today.

She heard water running and followed the sound. She reached a steep-banked stream and decided to sit. She closed her eyes and accepted the calm.

Bliss.

On opening them, she looked around. On the opposite bank, there was a tree. It wasn't trunk-thick but it had big roots; some exposed. It was part of the bank, at one point rooted further in the woods but its base had been eroded away. Now, it was clinging, its roots hoping.

But, Eleanor thought, despite this, it looked strong, reaching up, its branches stretching towards the sky where the light and the warmth were.

That tree was a survivor and so, Eleanor realised, was she.

***

366 words

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