But Do You Feel Safe?
in a tree? on the ground? in your mind?
I’m wearing my yellow fuzzy socks under a soft blanket on a grey day, drinking black tea from the green treetop of a live oak when a man wants to talk to me.
He rests his big booted foot on the trunk and looks up through squinted eyes.
“Hey, lady! How’d you get up there?”
I don’t know why he wants to know. I don’t know him.
Does he know me?
He wears a brown bucket hat, holds a walking cane in each hand, and looks about seventy-something. It’s a quiet river day with a chill in the air. I’d like more blue in the sky, but the blue in my eyes will have to do. I wonder if I still have some blue in my green eyes. It’s been ages since I’ve looked in a mirror.
I used to look in the mirror all the time when I was younger. But after a while, it felt redundant. Same old story. Yep, still me.
Same ole story. Still me, only older.
Same ole story. Mom? Is that you?
This man at the trunk of my tree doesn’t look threatening, but then again, he is a man—a man I don’t know. To be a woman in this world means never letting your guard down.
To be a woman in this world means to get used to a possible threat.
To be a woman in the world means being out alone - is an invitation.
This man is older, sure, but I still don’t know if I could outrun him if I had to. And if I were on the ground. He’s a hiker with his walking sticks and big boots out here. He has the appropriate props. He might be the sorta man who gets things done. He might be the sorta man who does whatever he wants.
He might be the sorta man in optimal tree-climbing shape.
It’s just the two of us in this forest on this dimly lit day. What was I thinking coming out here alone? I didn’t even tell anyone where I was going. Who would I tell anyway? Should I post my whereabouts on Facebook so my real and not-so-real friends can hover their fingers over the like button, considering maybe she’ll post a pic of a bear?
I feel silly for thinking I could safely commune with nature from a treetop. I feel revved up by my storytelling mind and I wish I brought a warmer jacket ‘cause I might have to stay up here forever.
“I climbed it!”
I say it in my most polite tone, without a hint of DUH in my voice.
He pats the trunk three times and says, “Well, there’s a storm coming.”
He tips his hat like an old-timey gent and walks away.
I watch a leaf fall to the ground and finish my tea.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️Soul Touching Work Of Art!
This book made me tear up multiple times, as I felt a real connection with the characters and their struggles. I recommend it for all ages.
-Laurie S. (Amazon Review)
Just a Girl in the Whirl by Annie Wood
Art, Acting, Books and More —→ Annie Wood’s Official Site