When I was younger, these branches mothered me... my Willow. They swept me off my feet and carried me when I laughed. Carried me when I wept. I had an old CD player that I would bring up in the tree with me and I would play my first and favorite CD; a a gift from my mother. A classics of the 60’s. My favourite song was “The Weight” by The Band. I used to wonder why I liked that song so much, until I got older and was able to read the words with a different understanding. I saw that I’ve carried the emotional weight of so many people in my life, even since I was a baby. My friends. My family. I’ve mothered my parents and am still a child. And now they are going separate ways, starting lives on their own. And I find myself mothering them again.
I remember being a baby, my first memory looking up to see my fathers face and knowing that I came back for him. I remember all the times I felt at home. And all the times I never did. I remember the first time my mother screamed at me, to turn around and be so tender and so kind, how could I not forgive the pain? Hers and mine both. We’ve been through the same abuse, after all.
I remember when I went into treatment. When I saved my own life. And when treatment brought me back here. To my Willow. To the place I always was safe. And to the child in me that still sits in those branches and still needs the most love. I called a friend today. Asked a favor. Asked for true help, the first time in a long time.
I wish I could be in my tree again, but last year when I went— I realized she had grown so much I couldn’t even reach the branch that I used to pull myself up. I didn’t realize how much she’s grown. Maybe I didn’t realize that for myself either.