Home > culture, life, writing > Peace In The Trees

Peace In The Trees

I felt peace again after a long time spent in numbing stress. I was happily with my youngest brother. I always enjoy time spent with him. We sat on a large log in the calm October forest. Up north on our parents’ island, snow began to fall in plump clusters. The trees had not yet shed their leaves, so we sat beneath multi-coloured bowers sharing a joint. There were moments when we stopped chatting and fell into separate reveries, looking out through the trees at the calm water of our private cove. In the silence I could hear the lumpy snowflakes landing on leaves that were dried but not yet fallen. The irregular ‘tick, tick, tick-tick’ of snow clumps hitting the leaves above seemed to match my heartbeat.
I don’t quite understand why my youngest brother and I have always been very close while my younger brother doesn’t warm to me. His personality is more conservative than that of the other two of us. He was not with us on this last island weekend of the year. He was living out west with his second wife. We would have to close up the cabin for the winter: put the shutters on the windows; put antifreeze in the plumbing; turn the boats belly up and winterize the outboard motors.
That time in the forest on that log with my brother was many years ago. Still, something about the shared space, shared memories and shared feelings of being there for each other was obviously quite important to me. I’m the oldest of the three of us, ten years older than the youngest and six years older of our middle brother. We’re all old guys now, focused on peace and grandchildren. I live four thousand miles from them, so recent technology enables us to keep track of each other and share family news.
I hope to go visit them again this year. They live in the BC Rockies, and I love time with my brother as he takes me around to show me the splendid Rocky Mountain vistas amid which he lives.

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