Fifth Grade Insight

What is a place of solace? The massive white oak in my field has always held that place in my heart. From a far it stands, the image of ancient wisdom. Yet as a child the grip of its craggy bark, held me like a soft blanket. It has, and always will be a place of solace, its roots connecting both itself and me to the earth. 

As a child, my little shoes often lead me in the direction of its mighty bows, through the prickly blades of dew covered grass. Not for any reason I guess, other than it was everything I was not, big and important. It had to be , how could anything that massive not be! Of course my parents always made it seem like I was the most important thing in the world, but I didn’t believe them. Not really anyway, when the world seemed so massive, and I was like an insignificant fly in comparison. However, the arching limbs of the  “Big Oak” held the energy of a friendly giant, unlike the frantic, overwhelming  energy of the rest of my young world. 

In fifth grade, I challenged myself to visit the Big Oak once every day for a month.  This may not have seemed like a difficult task, but in reality the routine proved to be a hard battle against the elements and my dreamy mind. Through warm breezy afternoons and sodden drizzly mornings, I made my daily pilgrimage. Often times, I berated myself, questioning why I was scraping my legs on saw grass and getting bitten by mosquito to be with a tree everyday. However, as the days accumulated, I realized the gift of solace the Big Oak offered was immeasurable. It was no longer just “a tree,” it was my tree.  It was a place for me to pause the chaos of modern society, and take time to reflect and organize my thoughts. Even in fifth grade, this daily meditation reversed my often disgruntled mind, making me feel refreshed and invigorated. The tree became vessel through which I could connect with the peace of nature and discover peace within myself. Often I felt that the tree and I were one.

Last summer the Big Oak was struck by lightening in a rain storm, and half of the mighty branches that had cradled me through my adolescence withered. Now, as I look upon this half dead giant,  I’m filled with creeping nostalgia. In many ways the deadened branches parallel my own lost  sense of open hearted wonder, that “maturity” has tried to erase. Even though the whirlwind of work, school and social pressure has deprived me of spending with my Big Oak, I will never forget its lesson of peaceful solace. Everyday,  when I see my tree through the window, I am comforted by my old friend.