We are all like leaning trees, learning to bend to adversity.
“Then I noticed one crooked tree on the river. It leaned over the river as if there was a time it was going to fall in.” I tilted my hand at an angle.
“But the tree’s top half was as straight as the others in the woods.” Curving my hand I matched the strange angle of the tree trunk.
“Fascinating.” She ran her fingers through her hair, straightening where the wind had blown it.
“Yes. It refused to fall. I like to think it sent its roots down deeper to drink of earth, it lifted its face to heaven in prayer to God, and it righted itself, refusing to give in. Finding its balance again.”
—Trunk of Scrolls