The Willow Tree

 

When my daughter was about five years old, my dad was her role model. It was during a difficult period in our lives, so we often packed up the dog and the car and spent weekends with my parents. (It was during one of those long drives that the story of Caitlin's Star was born.)

My mother smothered Caitlin with love, hugs, and stories. My father, the teacher, took her on adventures. He taught her about trees and plants, sports, and the wonders of nature.

One early summer Saturday, my dad came home with a Weeping Willow sapling. Our family project for the day was to plant it in the side yard.

As I have learned, willows are among nature's most resilient trees. They bend with the wind during storms and spring back afterward. They have long symbolized resilience and healing, flexibility and new beginnings. Some also see them as symbols of grief, rebirth, and renewal. Celtic legend says that the sound of the wind rustling through a weeping willow is really the voices of fairies whispering to one another. What a lovely image.

The little sapling grew quickly. Before long, its graceful branches formed a shady spot where we would sit, play, and enjoy summer afternoons.

Today, when I drive past my parents' old house, the willow is gone. I believe the new owners had it removed.

Recently, an old friend called me a willow. He said it represented resilience—bending without breaking. He didn't know that decades earlier my father had planted a willow tree with my daughter. I only just remembered myself.

Full circle.

Sometimes life returns a symbol to us long after we think we've lost it. The tree may be gone, but perhaps my father planted something much deeper than roots.

He planted resilience in all of us.