Seeding tomorrow

Upon waking, I realize I am floating. Or flying? High above the grassy ground speckled with autumnal trees, winding river, and a highway like a scar across a beautiful face. How do I know this? I have no eyes to see, no ears to hear, no skin to feel the wind I know I sail on. 

I am not exactly panicked, more…surprised. I have never felt this light. As I glide through the crisp fall breeze, I relax and my mind wanders. Images pop into my nonexistent brain of aches and pains, a hospital bed, and family–some gathered around, some missing like a charred, empty lot on a cheery suburban street.

There was something important. Something I wanted to tell them. Needed to tell them. But it evades me as I drift closer to a leaf-covered meadow. There had been an argument, or arguments? And an accident. Many things were broken and then…darkness. Until now.

The setting sun shines warmly on my small, oval body and papery wings before I settle into sandy ground between the river rocks. I feel safe here, content to carry my truths patiently until the day I can share them. 

I now realize I am both ancient and able to start anew. That is what a birch represents. As I drift to sleep I recall my message. One day, after I sprout and grow, die and am reborn many times, I will be able to finally say, “I’m sorry and I love you.”