The Scenic Route

         Driving down 104, I head to work. The sunlight is deceptive and if you’re not careful you might believe that the outside temperature is warm.  The air is crisp and sharp as it hits the back of your throat.  As a creature of habit I can become complacent on this usual drive. But today is different and I notice the leaves. End of fall foliage, a relieving and welcomed event for a waitress in the lakes region.

         The trees conserve themselves for next year.  The leaves die and average people drive to see this seasonal event. Without fail trees will be back with a full bloom of leaves and their resilience is valiant. If only people were so resilient. Some people might not make the connection but we the same ebb and flow as these deciduous trees. We could all relate to plants if you think about it.

         Take my grandmother, as an example. She was strong and consistent, much like a coniferous tree.  For as long as I can remember, she has been consistent.  Until a coniferous pine tree dies, it bears its tales and woes without shedding them completely. She will tell you how it is and she won’t cover up any bit of the truth with little white lies to make you feel “better.” The truth is a beautiful thing and we should all display the truth without letting it go.

         The leaves are awe-inspiring though. The stories they tell as the turn from green to burgundy, red, orange, and yellow.  Although less consistent, they hold their own in this world. They are strongly rooted and committed to their place in the world. My mother who is the glue that holds my family together. She may shed her leaves and adjust to what she must, but she is there for all of her child, her husband, her family. She is strong but knows when to conserve for her survival. If an oak tree tried to keep its leaves, it would certainly die. If it’s rotting where it stands what good was that display of leaves.

         Consistency and truth are great qualities, but what if we don’t possess these like a pine tree or a mighty oak? What do I have to offer the world? My grandmother Elizabeth, she was a wild flower. She inspired you to go after what you wanted, what you needed in life. Live for what makes you happy, what will make you prosper. Like a wild flower blooms, she was a treasure. But as wild flowers in New England, her life was cut shorter than most. She planted seeds in all that knew her and she lives on, inspiring me.

         Although I am inspired, I am not convinced I inspire others. Perhaps I am a house plant. You purchase a houseplant. Yes it may live for a long life, but a houseplant is dependent on many factors. Someone must remember to water it, allow proper sunlight, and change the soil appropriately. The beauty of a house plant is hidden from the world, reserved only for selfish enjoyment. A house plant is left to flourish or perish independently of its desires. While some may be content, I certainly have more to offer than to be a house plant.

         My mother has this affectionate rose bush. A wild rose bush that is obnoxiously pink and abundantly fragrant. She grows rebelliously. Even unpruned though, this bush is astonishing. This rose bush will cut you if you try to reach inside without the proper ration of attention. This bush is resilient, I do believe when it was over pruned and merely a bundle of frugal branches, it bloomed with a fury and stronger than ever.