The Little Red Tree

One of the greatest hurdles I've had to overcome (and still tackle daily) is the fact that I am no longer within a reasonable driving distance from my family. Perhaps it's the holiday season approaching, or the fact that I moved to the city where the majority of my friends (new and old) are from... seeing them with the option to spend weeknights and weekends with loved ones only reminds me of the time I wish I could spend with mine. Either or... this girl is homesick.

One of the greatest joys of autumn in my hometown is the little red tree that sits outside of our home...
Every single year for about a week or less, it sheds its leaves for the fall... only after they turn the most violent red that blindsides you as you drive past. One day almost 16 years ago as I hopped off the bus, my awkward pigeon toed frame walked hand  in hand with my mom as I explained the poetry contest I wanted to enter at my school. The prompt was, "When I turn around I see..." but I couldn't think of anything grand enough to satisfy my tiny mind in the creative process.

My mom stopped me at my drive way, covered my eyes, and spun me around right on the spot- and when she released her hand from above my nose, the little red tree sat there in all its glory. I wrote about that tree, won third at the state level, and forever more held an inanimate plant so close to my heart, it soon became a tradition to admire its beautiful metamorphosis. This tree may not hold much significance to many on Winpenny, but to my family, it will always be the tree that inspired a blonde haired 6-year-old to write a poem that eventually turned into a passion for writing...

While texting with my dad the other night, he sent me two pictures of the little red tree, explaining that the weather had been see-sawing this fall and the tree just didn't get its normal shade of vibrant red this year.

He continued on to say that it may just be because it is growing up, much like his little girl. Needless to say, my heart began to hurt as I turned off my phone for the night and the homesickness grew on. Closing my eyes, I began praying to God to give me strength to persevere until I can return home for the holidays next month... After the little red tree shed all of its color and its magic was long gone.

Yesterday, as I was walking home from a long Monday at work, the pang in my heart returned... but not because of the sadness brought on by the longing to be back in MD... but for the surprise that greeted me outside of my apartment...

The brightest of all reds swayed in the wind and a familiar rustle wafted on the breeze. I snapped a picture and sent it to my parents, tears in my eyes...

Looks like God knew if I couldn't physically make it back home, he could provide a little bit of home to me. This little reminder that his warmth and sense of comfort in the traditions and beauty that surrounds us was exactly the kind of the strength I needed. And as my dad reminded me with his response... God's fingerprints are everywhere.

A Runner's Prayer

Dear Lord...
Thank you for waking me with a starry sky
a promise that you're watching with a twinkling eye
as my feet are lifted to the floor
place my shoes on my feet and head out the door
Thank you for the crisp September air
and the subtle breeze that catches in my blonde hair
thank you for the friends that bring a smile to my face
and a painfree body for this 70 mile race
Thank you for comforting our restless nerves
a grace in which not one of us deserves
you place your hands on our wheels until we park at the start
and press your ear to my chest to keep my steady heart
Thank you for the dew, and the foggy sunrise scene
for my teammates and I to run into at a time so obscene
thank you for the silence and the cricket churps too
the hills and the hurdles that we all had to work through
Thank you for my muscles, stretched and warmed up for strength
and for removing my mind of worry, doubt, and angst.
Thank you for family and their encouraging words
and thanks for the humming of insects, the chirping of birds
Thank you for each breath: whether short, sharp, or deep
that carried us up and down bridges, slippery and steep
Thank you for headlights, reflecting vests so bright
and getting us through the 77 miles all alright!
Thank you lord for my teammates, for our competetors too
and we all survived the madness that is this sport that we do
and as I lay my head down at the end of the night
I say this runner's prayer and turn out the light.

Little Thing

Take a feather in a rainstorm
throw it off into the wind
watch it fall down to the earth
before its flight could begin

Watch the grain of sand get washed away
by a single wave of sea
unsettled for just a moment
but then the earth will let it be

See the branches in a snowstorm
struggle under heavy sheets of ice
then glimmer in the moonlight
in the clearest of winter nights

See the exhale of smoke from a burning fire
dance across the prairie sky
a gust of wind unsettles the rhythm of chaos
and soon even the heat will die

Listen to the lonely owl
whisper secrets in the dark
watching at dusk for his prey to sleep
in the shadows of the park

Hear the breath of the morning
as the sun climbs the rungs of space
to greet each miniscule matter of life
that bring a smile upon your face

Of Morning

Seaside mist imposter
crawls into the basin
waking the foothills
from a slumber so sweet
winter warmth left its fingerprint
in the form of green grass
sprinkling the frost
breathing into the morning moonlight
serenade.

Stepping out on the stained concrete
ankles crack and toes bend
in filth smothered sneaker mesh
knee one creaks
knee two straightens
heel toe, heel toe
upon green grass
trampled into the earth
turning sparkling frost
into murky mud
dents.

Mind wanders to yesterday
old conversations tucked in pockets
cell phone speakers
online forums
lost in the crowded cyberspace
cluttering our concentration
with hustle bustle
contentment lost
in comparisons
and confusion
of where we are supposed to be
and who
with who?

Street lamps flicker
car horns echo against bleachers
brick walls and cinder blocks
Dog walkers chatter
neighbors wave
the world awakens
to another day
of mass communications
overshadowing the sweetness
that lies behind
the silence
of morning.