The Weekly Catharsis: Comfort
Comfort can come in lots of little, subtle, unexpected ways. Take it where you can get it, especially now when we all need it perhaps more than ever. Thank you to everyone who took part this week.
A few years ago we lost someone from our family in tragic, senseless circumstances.
A year and a bit afterwards we went to our local garden centre, chose a lovely birch tree and planted it in our garden in his memory.
A few months later we were unavoidably away from home for longer than planned and when we got home all that was left of the tree was a chewed stub; in frustration the dog, left outside in the garden while we were away, had eaten the lovely birch tree we had planted. We were sad. But not too sad; it was just a tree, albeit a symbolic one. We thought we might plant another in time. Or maybe not. A year goes by. Our garden is slowly growing. So too is a new, unplanned tree. It’s sprouting up from between two rocks at the edge of the steps leading down into the garden, already showing how in time it will be a canopy of sorts, framing the way down to the peaceful, green garden.
A friend visits. She identifies the new tree. It’s a wild birch. It’s just a coincidence, but it gives me a little bit of comfort every time I see it.
"I take comfort"
I take comfort in the fact that I fought for you, stood up for you, cried for you, screamed for you.
I take comfort in the fact that this war I fought for you gave us an extra bond.
I take comfort in love we share.
I take comfort in the fact that you call me mom.