The little girl stood dwarfed in the giants shadow. The rough bark felt cool to her tiny fingers. The oak tree stood strong and mighty in the rocky earth. The girl stretched out her arms as far as they could reach. She didn’t even go around halfway.

The picture brought a mist to my eyes as I placed it gently back into mothers gold locket.

“That is my favorite picture of you Kya.” My mother looked up from her chopping board in the kitchen. “To me I see a young life embracing an old one. I see the promise of what you could grow into. Tell me kya, what do you see?”

What do I see? I see a little girl searching for stability in her life when her father died. I see her finding it in her mother, like the tree to the earth. I see how straight the mighty trunk is that supports a mess of gnarled branches. And a little girl wishing to do the same, to have a straight trunk: a pure center. The girl reaching for a straight path that will help her rise above hardships.

“I see inspiration mother, Gods inspiration.” I set the locket down and move into the kitchen to help with preparing dinner. We work for a while without talking. The only sounds the rhythmic chopping of spices and fresh foods: Onions, Tomatoes, Meat. Time runs on in the funny way that it does and before I know it, dinner is ready. We sit down at the scuffed wooden table and clasp hands as mother says grace.

“Dear lord and heavenly father...” Her words slip away as I gaze at the world outside of fathers hand painted windowsill. There stands our Oak tree, battered by all of the elements for two lifetimes, and I see the lord.

“Amen.”