I was a very internal kid regarding emotions. My love of the hunt, survival, and outdoors encompassed my childhood. Appalachia is a special place full of magic. Nature is my therapy.
Sometimes it’s easy for me to forget the past but brief moments flash back. Those moments flood back, I’m catching lighting bugs as a child in a mason jar. Catching June bugs in summer. The humidity is in the air and a storm is brewing. Storms in the mountains shake the earth. Suddenly a lighting bolt strikes, I cried. It knew something bad had happened and my salvation hurt. My oak tree was struck by lighting in my front yard and I felt it’s pain. I think I can remember feeling it dying that night. It lived, but suffered, struggled, and eventually it was cut down. The strike was the death sentence, but the final euthanizing came by chainsaw. I watched it come down with tears. It was the end of something I’d known my whole life. Like watching an animal euthanized.
Solitude today is torture and pleasure, my mind never stops. Solitude is necessary for my survival. A storm brings me peace and closure because of that single memory. I crave summer storms, because of the energy I feel for all living thing. I wanted 10 kids, I’m sure my oak wanted a forest. I’d like to think that my oak has bloomed and reborn many times.
I still have a leaf from the tree, but wish I had a kept a seed, an acorn.
The oak and I have both ended our lineage with different stories. I just wasn’t struck by lighting, but touch by fire and fate.