the inspirationist

we came upon a tree that barely survived another hard winter.

“will,” grandma said. “that’s some will.”

i looked to my small brother. i’m not sure he understood what she meant that day, but he examined intently the way the tree held up the sky in its frail, skeletal limbs.

grandma died the following year. it was a heavy loss, our first as a family, and my brother buckled beneath the weight of it.

but he survived, his fragile arms outstretched to the sky, teaching us all a lesson in will.

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