The young girl with a love for fairytales had matured into a woman. It took decades to become this woman and there was so much more ‘becoming’ left to do. She had grown to love and admire this warrior/woman challenging her reflection in the mirror, flashing that sheepish grin that has others asking, “What is she up to?” The whites of her eyes are not as bright, or clear as years ago, but the blue irises are a deeper blue, filled with what this life has taught her.

When she saw the house for the first time, she was with her daughter and in unison they squealed with delight, foreseeing the simple goodness they knew the house would offer. The woman was now in her 50’s but had made a vow before her 50th birthday to create that life her heart was yearning for. A life there was no escape from because there was no desire to ever leave. Houses were habitats to her, but surveying the outside of this one, she could see the potential of a happy home.

Her gaze fell upon a solidly built, wooden Arbor standing majestically about 6 ft. from the edge of the front yard. Edges fascinated her and she had taken her place upon many, but this house was waiting to be a habitat for healing. “You need that”, she breathed. She walked across the yard and stood in the midst of the Arbor to investigate the vine that had climbed up the side, above her head to rest on top of the wood slats. Someone had planted it there on purpose and she felt bewildered that the vine knew exactly what to do once it took root and settled into this space.

There was a shallow, wood barrel positioned beside the base of the Arbor that the vine must have started out in, but now it had begun to rot from sitting outside in the elements and was falling apart at the seams. The dirt was spilling out and the base of the vine didn’t really need the barrel anymore because it’s roots had pushed through the bottom into the ground. The vine was stable and strong but looked tired. It had been growing for years, but she couldn’t gauge how many. It hadn’t been cared for and most of it looked dead, so whoever took care of the house didn’t know the magic of pruning. There were so many elements surrounding her in this moment that resonated deeply within.

She stepped away from the Arbor and turned to give it one last look. The leaves were black and there were stretches of twig-like branches where no leaves would dare to grow again. The woman made a vow to the Arbor that day. If she moved into this house, she would pick apart the vine to see if any of it was worth salvaging and if not, she’d plant a new one to care for properly as long as she was there. The Arbor covered in trumpet vine would have a renewed purpose and stand tall in all it’s glory once again. That was her promise.

She tugged at the heavy cloak resting across her weary shoulders and pulled it closer toward her neck. It was winter, so maybe the vine wasn’t dead, but dormant. She had read recently that a poppy seed can lie dormant for 50 years before deciding to bloom. She didn’t know if it was true, or not, but she knew all too well what it felt like to go dormant.

Feature Photo by Joshua Woroniecki on Unsplash