Here is a tree. With an atypical trunk. When it was a baby tree, it
split off into branches at it's base rather than growing skyward, tall
and lean with a single trunk. But it found a way--a different way to
reach the sky. And today, it stands, stately and proud, as tall as any
other tree in the wood.
Trees have stories, I think, deep inside themselves. And if we listen, we'll hear those stories. This tree tells me that I, too, can find a way. Every day. Find a way to
write even though I teach and mom and freelance edit and do laundry and . . . (ugh) . . . cook.
And I can find a way to hope. Every day. Hope that one day
my writing will reach the sky.