The Magic of Trees and Heroes

The log on the side of the pathway had split from the freeze-thaw-freeze of our Canadian winters. Scarcely a centimetre wide, the split travelled the length of the log, and it looked like someone had stuck a twig in the crevice. Strangely drawn to the skinny, fragile twig, I checked it out each day as I trudged by. Would it wither? Would the strong winds blow it over? Would I come one day and find it gone?

Today I walked by to see it changed. Today, buds erupted from its scraggly frame. It wasn’t an errant twig stuck in a crevice after all, but a shoot which pushed from the forest floor, through at least a foot of wood, seeking the sunlight. It wasn’t the fragile twig I’d imagined. Strong and brave, it was a tree, growing in spite of incredible odds.

I began to think of all the people that a few months ago we didn’t see as the heroes they are. Perhaps we didn’t think of them as broken twigs, but we didn’t realize they were trees, either.

This is for them. For us.

Here’s to the front line workers who went into work every day, knowing you were facing a deadly virus but went anyway because people needed their care. Here’s to the ones who got sick in spite of all the precautions. Here’s to the ones who died. We can’t even express how sorry we are.

Here’s to the first responders who are often thought of as strong, but had an extra layer of danger added to their roster with the possibility of catching Covid-19.

Here’s to the men and women who served the meals, cleaned, washed the laundry and all the other hidden jobs at our long term care homes and hospitals. The spectre haunted you each day, too.

Here’s to those working in grocery stores, drug stores, driving trucks which deliver goods and all the other essential services, who kept working when a normal workday was far from normal.

Here’s to those who lived in fear and pain because your surgery was cancelled.

Here’s to teachers who figured out how to teach courses online which were developed for classrooms.

Here’s to parents who struggled with grade seven math when they thought they’d left it behind years ago.

Here’s to graduates who didn’t get a prom, a graduation ceremony or a proper good-bye.

And, because Mother’s Day is just around the corner, here’s to mothers who love their kids intensely but would love a break from them. Or moms who haven’t gone home in weeks because they’re afraid to take the virus home to their children. Or moms and grandmas whose arms are aching to give their kids and grandchildren a hug.

Any list like this is bound to leave someone out.  Let me say this:

Here’s to all of us. We aren’t fragile twigs.

We are trees, pushing through incredible odds, standing tall and then…blooming.

                                                                                  Here’s to us.

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The Miracle of Trees and Heroes