Grandmother Sycamore

Hand in Hand

Image captured by Kimberly Fox in July of 2022, with the Sycamore tree along Claverack Creek in Taghkanic, NY on Mahican, Ramapo, Lenape, Munsee land.

Teresa heard a soft whisper as she nearly lost her footing on a fallen branch beneath the Sycamore tree. She stumbled to find solid ground, arms splayed out to distribute her weight and recalibrate.

Thank you, I hardly saw that branch. Sometimes I catch myself looking far out into the vast horizon.

And you often lose your footing this way, dear darling.

Teresa responded with a subtle defensiveness.

There’s just so much beauty out there, so much limitless expanse.

Teresa, darling, I’ve reminded you of this before—

all you see out there is a mere reflection,

a mirror of

your light, refracted.

Yes, Grandmother, I hear you. I am reminded, thank you.

Teresa laid her open palm onto Grandmother’s aged, spotted skin. Wisdom held within the relief of each crack, histories and her-stories folded into her crevices.

I feel your wisdom within me,

though sometimes my mind forgets.

The best way for you to remember is to be mindful of every step.

Do not feign affection from a landscape yet beholden. Your work is to stay with your step;

you know it’s not the place you’re going,

but the way you walk to get there, dear one.

Yes, I remember. Teresa reaffirmed Grandmother that her message was received in her very cells.

She looked down at her feet, bare soles on the sodden Earth, tendrils of a crawling vine lay upon the mossy mounds, reaching ever so slightly toward the sky.

That’s right, Teresa, stay with your every step.

Teresa let her eyes close

as her belly filled with a deep breath

that seemed to come from elsewhere.

Those soles you have are open mouths, child.

When you lay them upon the Earth, they will drink until your body and soul are quenched.

Teresa gently bowed her chin to her chest,

as a delicate tear drop

danced down her cheek.

I have been so thirsty, Grandma.

Don’t forget this is an exchange, it runs in both directions.
You can drink into those soles and you can eliminate; anything you’re complete with can be given,

returned to Earth.

She is ready to receive from you.

 

Things you are complete with… what do you mean?

Teresa felt the silence on the other end as a

gentle nudge

to discover the answer to her own question.

Oh, you mean like this hunger toward horizons?

My incessant and insatiable draw toward distant skies?

A hefty gust of wind picked up as Grandma’s loving laughter

was carried in the breeze.

The leaves rustled overhead.

Teresa felt the compassion in Grandmother’s laughter; she had held her hand through this inquiry for so many years. The half moon had risen in the blue skies above, and Teresa decided to sit down beside her Grandma to continue their exchange.

She knelt down, crossed her legs and felt a sense of relief ripple up her spine as she rested her body onto the ground.

Yes, Grandma, I know.

I still seem to be holding on.

Even after I’ve loosened my grip, let go with both hands and given it up in all the ways my mind can think of,

in all the ways I know how.

Darling child, just as your feet have mouths, your heart has hands stronger than you’d ever imagine.

Kung fu grip.

It is here where you’re to do your work.

It is here where you can unravel.

In the center of it all,

where you find that your own rhythm originates.

Teresa began to listen for her heartbeat as her left hand rose

like a magnet

to her heart.

The sound of her heartbeat

starting to throb up into her eardrums.

The cicadas, singing their song, began to crescendo in the distance.

May your every step be in sync with the beat of your heart, dear child.

The more you see those shiny horizons in the

iris of your own soul spheres,

the more your rhythm will syncopate

with your every step,

and the more you’ll

breathe like me.

I want to breathe like you, Grandma.

You are remembering, Teresa.

Thank you. I love you Grandma.

Thank you.

Teresa slowly fluttered her eyes open, letting the warm hues of dusk flood into view. She gently uncrossed her legs and rose to stand beside Grandmother.

I am always here, child.

Thank you.

Thank you for seeking my council, for receiving my guidance. It does me a grand service to be heard by you amidst your becoming.

I will always return to you, Grandma.

Don’t forget to tell your brothers and sisters to come visit, too.

I will, Grandma, I will.

Teresa bowed forward to rest her forehead on the bark of the Sycamore tree.