protection.

When I lived in Mansfield, Ohio, many years ago, there was a gorgeous weeping willow in our next-door neighbor's backyard.  I remember walking home from school and dipping under its branches, feeling so protected by its long, draping leaves, some so lengthy that they touched the ground next to my feet. I'd look up and see a canopy of green, bowed around me like an umbrella, shielding me from all that could fall on me and hurt me.

This weekend, I will be hiding under a different kind of weeping willow. I need protection this weekend. Tomorrow is the anniversary of a day I thought would always be a happy part of my life, and now that it's not, I need to grieve it. Alone, in private, under protection reserved for me. And I am sure there will be some weeping of my own, without branches, without a canopy of green.

I wish I could run my fingers against the dipping branches of that weeping willow in Ohio, the tickle of my childhood running its touch across my hands. How I long to be back there, where danger and hurt only seemed to come in the form of scraped knees from riding a bicycle too quickly or falling off the swing set, instead of from people. 

How I long for that...

{gorgeous image from here}