This is so beautiful, Steve. So many images— that tree! And that unspoken apple right next to it. Congratulations to your child- I am so happy for her, and you! I love the way your writing takes its time- you never rush us through and we really feel the meaning bloom and grow as we go. I can tell why you are a great runner- you know quite a bit about pacing and I learn so much reading your work.
Emily, I am feeling very humbled and honored by your heartfelt comments. Pacing in running and in writing is an acquired skill. Something I didn’t have when I was younger. One of the benefits of being an aging runner is that the slower I’m getting, the more my patience is growing. Your feedback is so encouraging, Emily. Thank you so much for being here.
Thank you so much for these kind words Robin. Honestly, I’m very grateful and blessed to have an amazing daughter like her and her thoughtful choices are making my parenting look better than I ever imagined.
Enjoyed reading every paragraph of this Steve! I truly feel your daughter's excitement when you agreed how the time is right for her to pursue the MFA! I feel the same when my dad agrees and supports where my heart's headed.
My dad divorced my birth mother 8-9 years ago and it was hell for all of us but we made it out & happy eventually--some truth churchil spoke!
Thank you so much for this heartfelt response Mohika. We all have to confront hard times but getting through them can definitely feel worse than hell. But we do get through them.
This is so beautiful! The oak, the conversation, the curiosity. I just had a fairly dramatic and surprising episode last week, where I mourned the loss of what “could have been,” while also desiring, desperately, that my children not experience what I did. They haven’t, but the two, my loss and my children’s futures, are knotted up together. I’m with you in that I feel I made the best choices I could at the time and also that when I learned I could heal, I worked toward that. I sense both grief and acceptance/peace in your writing here. It’s incredibly encouraging. Thank you.
Thank you, Emily. So appreciative of your sharing here. The aboutness of this telling has different ways of resonating with others that I’m discovering also. For me, over time, the “could have beens” fade and eventually there comes a time of peace and acceptance. We make choices but we have no real control over the outcomes.
Yes and yes. I generally don’t spend a lot of time in could have beens because they have been:), and I can’t change them. I tend to err on this side and get frightened of what sitting with the past might bring up. I’m learning that when the space is there to be with past stuff, that being is healing. As you say, so many different resonances. And the tree being carefully held and accommodate in its strength and magnificence, so wonderful.
I really tried to point out the juxtaposition of our very in the moment lives and the way we can change our minds so easily versus the slow steady pace of the tree. So glad everyone seems to see this. Thank you Emily.
I do! I think that juxtaposition is one of the most beautiful things about this piece. I should also say that I'm with you when it comes to waiting many years to begin writing. I wanted to write, but I did not know that I could do what I wanted or that I could even ask myself what I wanted. Other things were much more pressing. I'm glad we're one this journey of "late" (I don't like that word) writing together.
I felt that I was sitting beside you. Though I’m even younger than your daughter, I find myself already pondering the questions she poses, and replying with answers similar to yours. We are all always doing the best we can with what we’ve been give. That is agency, and there’s no regret in it. Thank you, Steve.
Thank you, Steve, for being so inspiring, introspective, and an athlete whom I admire. I am enjoying your Tales from the Trails, very much. Looking forward to hearing and reading more. You are one heck of a human!
“Layer upon layer of intertwined limbs, crossing fingers of leaves, block the sunlight in perforated sheets of green. The tree is old, weathered, and in need of intervention. A system of cables are pulled taut to anchor the ponderous branches to the trunk. Steel girders act as crutches supporting the base of the heaviest branches…”
I love the realistic juxtaposition of light and shadow in your writing - the magical old tree is in need of mechanical supports… the bonding talk with your daughter brought us up short with heart-stopping honesty… in fact, all of it is bravely honest. Impressive craft here.
Thank you, Andrea for the careful noticing and your kind comments. I really wanted to bring in the perspective of the old oak and I believe I was able to achieve that. Thanks again.
This is just so very well written, Steve. I truly enjoyed reading it! I also burst out loud an "Oh, my God!" when you daughter said, "I don't want to be like you." You're an amazing man for taking it in stride. I was once having a teary and difficult reunion of sorts with my son. The tears were mine. He was in his 20s. He said, "I think maybe you love me more than I love you."
Thank you Don so much for your tender sharing. It’s our secret as writers as to all that happens that we don’t share. I used my daughter’s remark as the central point of the whole piece. Honestly, I remember being thrilled when she said that because I knew she meant no harm but was setting up the whole reveal. Thanks again for sharing, Don.
This is so beautiful, Steve. So many images— that tree! And that unspoken apple right next to it. Congratulations to your child- I am so happy for her, and you! I love the way your writing takes its time- you never rush us through and we really feel the meaning bloom and grow as we go. I can tell why you are a great runner- you know quite a bit about pacing and I learn so much reading your work.
Emily, I am feeling very humbled and honored by your heartfelt comments. Pacing in running and in writing is an acquired skill. Something I didn’t have when I was younger. One of the benefits of being an aging runner is that the slower I’m getting, the more my patience is growing. Your feedback is so encouraging, Emily. Thank you so much for being here.
💜💜💜
The apple!
Well done!! Your life experience reflects a lot of wisdom within your very beautiful story-telling! And, you raised a great daughter- congratulations!
Thank you so much for these kind words Robin. Honestly, I’m very grateful and blessed to have an amazing daughter like her and her thoughtful choices are making my parenting look better than I ever imagined.
What a gift that keeps on giving! Cheers to you!
Enjoyed reading every paragraph of this Steve! I truly feel your daughter's excitement when you agreed how the time is right for her to pursue the MFA! I feel the same when my dad agrees and supports where my heart's headed.
My dad divorced my birth mother 8-9 years ago and it was hell for all of us but we made it out & happy eventually--some truth churchil spoke!
Thank you so much for this heartfelt response Mohika. We all have to confront hard times but getting through them can definitely feel worse than hell. But we do get through them.
Yup, that we do
This is so beautiful! The oak, the conversation, the curiosity. I just had a fairly dramatic and surprising episode last week, where I mourned the loss of what “could have been,” while also desiring, desperately, that my children not experience what I did. They haven’t, but the two, my loss and my children’s futures, are knotted up together. I’m with you in that I feel I made the best choices I could at the time and also that when I learned I could heal, I worked toward that. I sense both grief and acceptance/peace in your writing here. It’s incredibly encouraging. Thank you.
Thank you, Emily. So appreciative of your sharing here. The aboutness of this telling has different ways of resonating with others that I’m discovering also. For me, over time, the “could have beens” fade and eventually there comes a time of peace and acceptance. We make choices but we have no real control over the outcomes.
Yes and yes. I generally don’t spend a lot of time in could have beens because they have been:), and I can’t change them. I tend to err on this side and get frightened of what sitting with the past might bring up. I’m learning that when the space is there to be with past stuff, that being is healing. As you say, so many different resonances. And the tree being carefully held and accommodate in its strength and magnificence, so wonderful.
I really tried to point out the juxtaposition of our very in the moment lives and the way we can change our minds so easily versus the slow steady pace of the tree. So glad everyone seems to see this. Thank you Emily.
I do! I think that juxtaposition is one of the most beautiful things about this piece. I should also say that I'm with you when it comes to waiting many years to begin writing. I wanted to write, but I did not know that I could do what I wanted or that I could even ask myself what I wanted. Other things were much more pressing. I'm glad we're one this journey of "late" (I don't like that word) writing together.
I felt that I was sitting beside you. Though I’m even younger than your daughter, I find myself already pondering the questions she poses, and replying with answers similar to yours. We are all always doing the best we can with what we’ve been give. That is agency, and there’s no regret in it. Thank you, Steve.
What a beautiful response. Thank you for this Christianna. Such a great statement: no regret in agency—so true! Thank you for being here, friend.
Thank you, Steve, for being so inspiring, introspective, and an athlete whom I admire. I am enjoying your Tales from the Trails, very much. Looking forward to hearing and reading more. You are one heck of a human!
Thank you so much for your kind words, Janet. Hope you’re feeling better soon, miss running with you. And you’re one heck of a human also!
Excellent writing! It always helps if you have a good story to tell and you do.
Thank you so much for this Stan. One of the benefits of growing old is that I have a lot more stories to tell. Glad you’re enjoying them!
And at 62,I know what you are saying.
Soon to be 67, Stan and the gift we now have is the gift of perspective, something I enjoy so much in reading your poems.
“Layer upon layer of intertwined limbs, crossing fingers of leaves, block the sunlight in perforated sheets of green. The tree is old, weathered, and in need of intervention. A system of cables are pulled taut to anchor the ponderous branches to the trunk. Steel girders act as crutches supporting the base of the heaviest branches…”
I love the realistic juxtaposition of light and shadow in your writing - the magical old tree is in need of mechanical supports… the bonding talk with your daughter brought us up short with heart-stopping honesty… in fact, all of it is bravely honest. Impressive craft here.
Thank you, Andrea for the careful noticing and your kind comments. I really wanted to bring in the perspective of the old oak and I believe I was able to achieve that. Thanks again.
Thank you for the restack @Nancy Boyd !
This is just so very well written, Steve. I truly enjoyed reading it! I also burst out loud an "Oh, my God!" when you daughter said, "I don't want to be like you." You're an amazing man for taking it in stride. I was once having a teary and difficult reunion of sorts with my son. The tears were mine. He was in his 20s. He said, "I think maybe you love me more than I love you."
I laughed but I never forgot it.
Thank you Don so much for your tender sharing. It’s our secret as writers as to all that happens that we don’t share. I used my daughter’s remark as the central point of the whole piece. Honestly, I remember being thrilled when she said that because I knew she meant no harm but was setting up the whole reveal. Thanks again for sharing, Don.