It was mid-July when the willow tree decided to speak. She bent down, her long tresses sweeping along the earth beneath us.
“Daughter,” she began. Her low voice carried on the wind. “You don’t want to believe, but you hear me, do you not?
“This is the lesson I hold for you: Be flexible. See how I bend; and now, see how I twist? But I do not break. You must do likewise.
“You, like me, can not only adapt but thrive. Stop fighting what you can’t control. Yes, stand strong; but be flexible. Surrender to yourself, to what you already know, and you will become all that you already are. Trust me on this.”
With that the willow straightened. She stretched and then swayed in one fluid movement.
Without realizing it, I did, too.