The November north wind sneaks through the night, rattling the wind chimes, thrashing the trees, and tossing the plastic chairs all over the top floor terrace, dragging me out of a much anticipated stay-in-bed-‘till-whenever Sunday morning slumber. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, the remnants of the night outside our window reveal the dim shape of our Ficus trees waltzing wildly in the yard.
I always dreamed of having big, tall, strong trees in our yard, with branches that would support my weight if I ever decided to climb them. When we got them, they were barely two little twigs, skinny and shy, not even two feet tall. Though stronger and more mature now, they may not be ready for a climber like me, but the promise is there.
They have survived a good share of traumas. Not even a year after they were planted, realizing that our new home design called for a deck that would deprive them of sunlight, we transplanted them. For almost twelve months after that, they put up quietly with the constant harassment of construction workers, debris and a perpetual film of cement dust. And when life had recovered some normalcy, in a matter of four months, our invincible Ficus trees endured the onslaught of two hurricanes that uprooted and twirled them around the yard, leaving them weak, vulnerable and naked.
Now, as I watch their tough limbs flailing outside the window of our bedroom on the second story of our home, I count my blessings, for I always get what I wish for—the magic of my extraordinary life! It is that realization that propels me out of bed, closely followed by our I-am-convinced-I-am-a-giant Chihuahua-Terrier-mix dog, Smoky.
After “pushing the button,” action code for starting the coffee machine, I peek through the kitchen window and marvel at the stillness that envelops the neighborhood. Despite the commotion caused by the wind, it sleeps, lulled by the uproar, seemingly undisturbed by it.
Getting back in bed, Smoky and I cuddle up to my husband, agreeing to make the moment last a little longer without uttering a word (or a bark). I can feel the Presence—love, peace, joy, contentment—as I caress the moon tresses on my beloved’s temple and doze off.
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