Redwoods

There was a time before we knew each other,
a time when there was no you in my memories and life.

But I do not remember it.
And I cannot imagine it.

Did you know?
In a forest, trees form independent root systems to withstand storms.
Every tree, that is, but redwoods.
Redwoods grow shoulder to shoulder and interlock their roots.
They stay upright because of each other.

So like two redwoods that had been planted side by side,
our roots began to stretch towards each other.
And our doors began to open to one another.

You live with a blizzard in your head.
I know that.
During the harsh winters,
everything collapses—
no sound nor light nor life nor breath seeps in or out.
It is deathly cold in the cave-in.
You are achingly alone.
what is up
what is down
what is you
what is hope?

But I am here.
Outside the door.
Knocking and waiting with soup in hand.

The me that you see is someone capable gorgeous confident intelligent amazing–
someone who can take on the world if she so wills it.
I am not her.
But where would I be if I am not reminded that I can be larger than life?
The real me is scared most of the time, and angry the rest of the time.
But you are a safe harbor where I can rest
and where would I be without this touchstone-home?

As I grow, I realize that the work of us
is one of the most vital and joyous tasks I’ve been given.
Put in a thimble and a thousandfold is returned.

In a forest, two redwoods planted side by side interlock their root systems to stand tall.
This is the only way they know how to survive—
to weather the storms or the bone-chilling blizzard.
And so it is with us.

Now, we have spent years growing beside each other, interlocking our roots.
The door is always open between us.
And the best gift of each other’s presence
is this:
we are intensely our best selves
and the world coalesces into sense.