Tonight I went and sat under one of my favorite trees in San Diego. I have favorite trees all along the west coast. It’s not every day or even every year that I get to see them and climb them, but I know they are there waiting for me to return. They stand tall and firm, branches swayed only by the wind and roots that aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
I sit at the base before climbing up. I take in the strength along with the shade the tree has to offer. I lean against the trunk. I feel small but important. I look up at the branches above me and I imagine angels scattered among the limbs, dangling their feet, smiling, whispering, laughing. They watch me and I watch them. I can’t see them, but I watch them and I thank them for being there.
“You can come out,” I say sometimes hoping they let me see them, “I can’t see you but I know you’re there.” They laugh with each other and smile. They wave to me implying that maybe one day I’ll get to see them but not yet. I laugh too because I know how it sounds, or at least how it would sound to any passer-by who sees a young woman sitting at the base of a tree yelling at the limbs.
I take a deep breath and look out at the water. The tree I sat under tonight is nudged up against the bay and the roots are almost long enough to dip their feet in but not quite. The sun was bright orange and I watched it slowly respond to the call of the water as it got closer and closer before disappearing beneath the bay.
I sat and I watched and I listened. Nothing profound happened. No answers to life’s questions, no angels revealing themselves. But in those few quiet moments just before the sun disappeared, I was okay being me. I had nothing to show for my time, save maybe a few bug bites, but my time was not wasted.
The gold sky turned dark blue and I knew it was time for ice cream.