The Willow Tree, Like Me

I have gotten over the daily depression. I can happily say I get sad maybe four times out of a month, maybe two, if I’m lucky enough. Holding on to the motivation that “I will make a change” and juggling the bullshit in this life is challenging. Anytime I feel as though I’m not able to regain control of my overthinking abilities, I take a small walk outside. When I am at my saddest, like anyone else, I sit and cry. I have gotten myself out of that dreadful depressed state of mind I lived in, for seven years too long. Life's problems are seeming impossible to fix anymore. I can finally say I’ve learned “to accept the things I cannot change”. My tears have never turned into a magical eraser for my pain. It doesn’t matter how much I cry; it just isn’t any help for me. Yet my tears still gradually fall, stubbornly free. I have so many questions, but I end up only having to keep them inside my head. Going on through this life without the right answer. No knowledge from anybody and no advice given. It was worth my time, trying to talk to somebody because I know now, I’ll only get rejected. Seeing me is like seeing a stranger nowadays, quiet and walking with my head down. Human contact isn't of interest anymore. Walking leads me to the same place every time. Miles away is where I finally stop, sitting on an old broken bench. Sleepy Hollow Park has been here for a little over fifty years now. Lifting my head, I look over to the only hill this park has. Realization knocks a little air out of me. The tiny tree my mother and I planted when I was five has grown so big. Twenty-four years have passed, and I am nowhere near where I thought I'd be. Then again, I was just another child that had many "when I grow up" dreams to talk about. I am Feeling as though this walk didn’t help me cope. I sigh out, closing my eyes tight so that the stubborn tear stuck on my lashes, will drip off. “Well!” I yell out, standing up at the same time. I try shaking off the lingering sad feelings. Maybe I should try relaxing over next to the beautiful willow tree. Hopes for the memories to momentarily heal the aching heart inside me. Hello Willow, what is it that is making you weep? Remember me? Once upon a time ago, I got to see you every Friday “The mommy and me day” but now it’s occasionally when I visit with you. A few years have already gone by since the last time I sat on this hill with you. I’m sorry if it means anything to you, Mr. Tree. Momma hasn’t been feeling so well, she doesn’t do much of anything anymore. Life just isn’t the same at age twenty-nine. What I would give, to be here at five again. Focusing on the branches of this weeping willow tree, I start to ponder. Comparing myself to this tree in many ways. “Hey, willow” has your life been blurry? Is the reason for your sadness, not being able to see a beautiful life through your moss-covered drooping leaves? I must say I can relate. I go silent again, laying on my back right beneath the willow. Gazing fully amongst the weeping of the leaves, another gentle tear rolls down following the dried-up tear tracks on the left side of my cheek. Noticeably, the wind blows with a sudden cold force that creates vibrational whistling. Listening close as I witness the harmony of every thin branch dancing over me. I inhale like it was my first breath of life. The coolness approaches me with the feeling of love, and peace. Was that you, Willow tree? The scene turns back into silence. I know now, this Weeping Willow Tree has a spirit of guidance. I can’t believe I finally found the one living thing I can connect to with just the sound of silence. I must go now Willow; I hope we can meet in a better life. Walking away, I whisper “I’m slowly dying” so this is my last “hi and goodbye” to you, my friend.

-Moe

Lilianna A. Cruz

05-22-1993

12-17-2011