Renewal (Daily Writing Prompt)

Grandmother told me not to cry when my favorite tree split during the thunderstorm. It was probably older than our entire family and it’s time had come, Gramdma said. In a single strike, decades of half-finished forts, scraped knees, and attempts to touch the sky was reduced to a mangled mess of branches, twigs and splinters.

She said a new tree would grow in its place once the old one decayed. Neither of us would see it grow to it’s full potential, but I was told to take comfort in the fact that it would be a lot like our tree. Once day, the new tree would house similar half-finished forts, cause more scraped knees, and help grandchildren and great-grandchildren touch the sky. Rebirth and renewal never ends, she said.

In the midst of the next thunderstorm, my grandmother passed away. The lighting of that storm split me into more pieces than that tree. A new, stronger tree grew where my heart had been.

Instead of half-finished forts, it houses my grandmother’s ability to feed three generations and then some. Instead of scraped knees, it causes laughter with my grandmother’s sense of humor. I still try and help others reach the sky, just like my grandmother.

Rebirth and renewal never ends, I say.


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