Defying Gravity
With every step, my knees creaked and my muscles cramped. What if this was the last time I could walk in the forest on my own two feet, with the freedom to wander, to go where the crunch of the leaves sounded brightest, to crouch whenever I wanted to study some moss? Not that it was much of a crouch anymore, but luckily, my favourite type of moss was so kind as to grow on a high stack of branches that someone had gathered and left in my path. When I leaned forward to study it, a voice asked: “Are you looking for a companion?”
I frowned and hesitantly poked the moss with a fingertip.
“We had a broomstick in the family, you know, who met a witch and together they ended up defying gravity. So imagine the adventures we could have if I became, say, your walking stick.”
This wasn’t the moss talking, it was the branch it was growing on: a sturdy, just slightly crooked one that, I noticed as I picked it up off the pile to lean on it, was just right for my height.
“Well, I’m honoured you’ll accept me as your faithful partner,” the stick said with a chuckle, “and that makes you family, so I will tell you all of the wonderful stories of my family tree.”
As I listened to the stick, I quietly celebrated the fact that this wouldn’t be my last walk in the forest after all.
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[Image description: Close-up on a stack of branches, some of them covered with green moss or lichens.]
