Willow and The Grandfather
By Deborah Reilly

     Once there was a little willow tree, just a baby, only a few feet tall. Her limbs were thin and fragile, and she lived in a pot at a plant nursery. Workers at the nursery watered Willow and fed her. When it was chilly or too hot, they moved her in her little pot inside a greenhouse where she was safe and comfortable.

     One day, some people came along and took Willow away. They took her to a lovely garden; filled with beautiful, fragrant flowers and herbs, shrubs, ferns, vines and every kind of plant Willow had ever known, and some she did not know. There were many other trees; some had limbs heavy with fruit ripening in the sunshine. Beautiful butterflies and lazy bumblebees were busy visiting everyone.

     The people had a perfect spot picked out and ready for Willow. They removed her from her little pot and soon she was snug in her new home; her roots tucked firmly into Mother Earth. The rains came, and Willow grew tall. Her graceful limbs curved delicately, and danced gently in the breeze as the warm sun kissed her face.

     Willow stood proudly in the garden. She thought she was much prettier than many of her neighbors. She thought the twisted old Cypress tree who lived closest to her, with his bony knees poking up from the ground, was especially unattractive. Willow was too polite to say so of course. She just looked the other way and did not speak to him at all.

     The summer sun gave way to fall. The rains and winds became chilly and unfriendly, until finally winter arrived. With winter came cold, mean winds. They beat and whipped Willow's delicate little branches until she feared she would break. "I'm afraid! I'm afraid!" Willow cried out. The wind laughed with bitter, icy breath, and tore at Willow's little limbs even harder.

     The Grandfather Cypress heard Willow's cries. "Let me help you, child" he said in his ancient voice. "I've stood here many years." My branches are thick and strong from fighting the wind. The Grandfather bowed low in the wind, and reached out to Willow with his giant, twisted old limbs. She draped her fragile little branches over his huge, strong ones, and sighed with relief.

     The wind shrieked and howled with fury, but Willow was no longer afraid. She was safe and warm in the Grandfather's arms. He rocked her gently all winter long as she slept, and sang to her in his whispery old voice. The days and nights came and went, until Mother Earth became warm again and the gentle breezes of spring replaced the cruel winter wind. "Wake up, child!" whispered the Grandfather.

     Willow awoke and unfurled new little leaves into the balmy breeze. The spring rains came, and washed the sleep from Willow's eyes and the winter from Mother Earth, while drumming the gentle rain song on everything under the sky. Soon the rain stopped and the warm sun kissed Willow's face once again.

     Mother Earth smelled fresh and clean after the rains. Bird parents fed their young, flowers began to bloom, and the bumblebees and butterflies returned. At dusk, the frogs and crickets sang in harmony as the moon rose in the night sky.

     Willow looked at the Grandfather, with his bony old knees poking up from the ground. She remembered how gently he had sheltered her, and wondered how she could have ever thought him ugly. She felt ashamed that she had thought unkindly of him, for without his protection she surely would have perished in the harsh winter.

     Willow was filled with remorse. She turned her face and all her wispy little branches down to the ground, and wept. She wept with shame for disrespecting the Grandfather because of how he looked. She knew that it was wrong to judge the beauty of another spirit by how they look on the outside.

     Willow vowed that she would continue to weep until no one is ever again judged by how they look. To this very day, Willow continues to weep, as do her children and grandchildren, and their children, and theirs. So far, this story has no ending.