"Megan, you're going to think I'm a little crazy," she said.
"Why?" I replied
"Cause I talk to the trees. The trees know everything. The trees see everything. The trees live so long because of their roots. And in my next life, I'm a gonna come back as a tree"
My Nonna talks to trees.
She's 93 and talks to trees, and I swear to you, she's the sharpest tack in the whole box, and still very much operating with a full deck of cards.
But lately, she's got a thing for trees.
We're all interconnected, she says. Like the roots of trees.
She read somewhere about these trees. The roots. The magic. The all knowing power.
I don't know where she read it.
In her typical sage like fashion, the words she took from it and told me have been running around in my head for days.
Trees. Roots. Trees. Life.
How many times have you just stopped to listen to the trees?
Have you ever just sat, without a cellphone or a conversation, and listened to the trees?
I don't think I ever have.
And I wonder if it's because she's older, that she stops to take it in. The sunshine. The green. The grooves of the bark.
I would imagine that her age does have something to do with it, for with the gift of growing old comes the understanding of the importance of slowing down, and stopping to stare and talk to the trees.
And maybe if you stop to stare at the trees long enough, you'll start to slow down and take in the people around you.
There's something about knowing the laugh lines of your loved ones faces, and how the folds of their smiles deepen.
There's something about understanding the roots of what makes someone - what holds them up, what keeps them grounded, what allows them to flourish and thrive.
Too often we overlook the tiny moments of life in anticipation for something bigger and better. Life is made and lived in the moments of in-between, in the times you stand and stare at the trees.