They Lied About The Seeds
Total Read Time: About 6 minutes
Los Angeles, California
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I actually planted early enough and lived long enough to see my seeds grow into trees and to enjoy them.
I remember having a single seed in my hands cradled over the rust red dirt below. Would it even grow here? We shall see. I let go and dropped it into the earth and I supported it. I loved it, I stayed with it at all times regardless of my environment and fluctuating circumstance. I stayed and supported regardless of who came and who went. I stayed and supported and loved and poured into it of myself every single day. At times when I was empty I even took from others to have enough to give into this little seed that I had big hopes for - a seed that at this point I couldn’t even see anymore.
And now…after plucking out of the red rust dirt after shooting both taller and extending out wider it’s big enough and strong enough to stand on it’s own. It’s gradients of brown and orange weave into one another as they go higher and higher up. Now there are many branches and these branches reach higher and higher upwards and outwards and in every direction. So many directions in fact that I can circle the whole trunk and still be mostly in the shade even with the golden sun beaming down through the dark green leaves which are lightly speckled with a faint rust red almost as if they knew exactly where they came from.
With such full coverage I can invite my friends! They can come here and enjoy this too. We drink good clear water and stare at the crystal sky. We dance and sing and circle in a ring as we shoot all our worries below through our stomping and rhythmic bare feet against the soil. We hold onto one another and celebrate the breaths we take in one anothers grace. Then after I laugh and after I cry I go to sit at the base of the tree.
I breathe in deep and though I feel the bark I can no longer tell where my back ends and the tree begins. A friend comes by and sees me they point upwards at a deep and vibrant purple flower unleashing itself from it’s bud almost in 2x’s speed. Almost as if it wanted me to have enough time to see it all the way bloom. What a gift. My friend asked,“What kind of tree is this anyway? Do you have any idea?” I shook my head no. “Well maybe one day it’ll bear fruit!” I took a deep breath in and replied…
“I suspect I may and though I will not taste it I am hopeful it will be sweet. It was a great honor to grow with this tree and to have it take care of me. Will you tell them? Those who come to eat the fruit. Tell them-” | |“Yes yes,” my friend interrupted. “I will tell them it was you to thank,” they finished. “No,” I replied.
“Tell them to plant the seeds.”