Saturday, August 31, 2013

Weeping Willow Homily

A long time ago, my primary playmates were 
the brothers I was born between.  
Born close enough to feel like triplets, 
it stands to reason that most of our earliest memories involve each other exclusively.  
I was born in a house on a road called Robson and I live on it to this day, at the far end...
50+ years ago, long before it was paved with tar and chip - 
I sat in the side yard with my mother and playmates -  leaning in for those maternal smooches, under the canopy of a very big tree with a million long tresses. 

I pass by the place of my birth almost every single day - usually more than once a day. 
Needless to say, 
my roots go extremely deep...
Much like this willow tree recently felled by the last wind storm.
Mighty Weeping Willow?
You are not that sawn off stump to my way of thinking.
You will always loom extra large in my mind.
You will always bring to mind our delightful death-defying Tarzan & Jane leaps...
....over the rushing waters of Grindstone Creek.

Grindstone Creek?  You are not a benign trickle in my mind...
No indeed.

You will always bring to mind summers filled with crayfish scavenging under every rock & crevice.
You harboured lobsters.   I remember them well. 
You are extraordinary.  You always will be. 

Never forgotten.
Forever standing strong in the tapestry of my life.