The Wisdom of the Dryad Lady.

Jan 04, 2008 - 22:00 PM PST

This stemmed from an in-class assignment where we were given a character, a location and a situation, I believe. I got 'a talking tree', 'a chinese restaurant' and 'a wedding'. This is what came of that. ps. it was spring and we had had a huge snowstorm that week.


The Wisdom of the Dryad Lady
Rebecca Pilling


It had been a pretty crappy week. A week full of snow and wind and freezing cold temperatures . . . in April. The previous week had been just lovely – true springtime weather and my bare branches were enjoying the warmth after the bitter winter. Now, once again, I was cold, damp and uncomfortable.
Luckily I did not receive the brunt of the attack. A few years ago some people had built a building next to me that sheltered me from the elements. It was a nice relief after nearly one hundred years of direct exposure to the weather patterns.
Now this building they built had undergone many transformations since its establishment in the town. I had seen it house everything under Father Sun’s influence from a hardware store, to a pet shop, to a bakery and a deli. For a brief ten years the building housed a Chinese restaurant. The family that ran it was very pleasant. They planted flowers amongst my roots and placed a wrought iron bench around my trunk and their children spent lazy summer afternoons climbing my leafy branches. This story, however, has little to do with the Chen family.
As I said, the Great Mother, in her wisdom, which if you ask me was a little off that week, had caused the snow to fall in the springtime and blanket the earth. I didn’t complain, I stayed in my place, limbs bare and shivering until the Father Sun was allowed to melt the vile white stuff enough for people to gather around me once again. I do so love the company of people, especially when the birds are away.
One night the week of the inexplicable blizzard around nine thirty by the church clock, a beautiful young woman emerged from the front of the Chinese restaurant carrying a brown paper bag. With her was a tall handsome young man who appeared to be badgering her.
“I just don’t understand, Selene! Why did you go running from the church? Why have you been avoiding me? Why won’t you tell me what happened?”
The young woman simply started at him and sat reverently on the bench around my trunk.
“Selene just tell me what I’m supposed to have done!”
Still Selene would not answer him.
“I don’t understand you, Selene! You are the one who ran out on me. You ran out on our wedding day with no explanation. Don’t I deserve some kind of an explanation?”
An image rose from my memory – an image of a woman dressed in a long white gown bursting from the doors of the church across the street. The woman stumbled down the steps and disappeared around the corner. A tuxedoed man, the groom, presumably, had come running out after her followed by a few guests. This had happened almost two weeks previously. I had seen similar sights many times over the years. Sometimes it was the groom, sometimes the bride, always leaving, never returning. This was the first time any of them had ever come back to my corner.
The man kneeled in front of Selene, took her hands in his and whispered:
“Please, Selene . . .” the look on his face was so sad, so pathetic, I did not trust it.
“You want to know why, Sean?”
“Please, tell me why . . .”
“Because, Sean,” spat Selene, disgust in her voice, “Diana, you know Diana, Diana my best friend, Diana my Maid of Honor, she told me, Sean, she told me about the two of you. Oh, what, did you think she wouldn’t eventually, Sean?”
Selene pulled her hands from his.
“She’s in love with you, Sean,” continued Selene. “She told you she loves you last week, Sean. Do you remember that? She told you she loves you then you slept with her! Do you remember that, Sean? You must – you were there, after all. You told her you loved her, too, and you slept with her.”
“Selene, I’m so sor . . .”
“No. I do not want to hear it. I never want to see you again. Get up and walk away. I’ve got some Kung Pao Chicken here I’d like to eat before it gets cold.”
Her voice, sharp and icy, almost made me get up and move. Sean stood up from the snow and mud and backed away from his former bride. So determined she’d sounded, I expected her to get up immediately and walk briskly away. But she didn’t. she sat on my bench quietly for quite some time.
Soon I noticed she was crying. Not a tear or two but sobbing silent tears.
“Oh, dear,” I muttered moving my limbs to brush her shoulders comfortingly.
“Is it really so bad?” I asked.
“Oh, Lady Dryad,” she said turning to face me. “I was so humiliated. Not only that it happened, but that I never noticed.”
“But, my child, is it not better that you found out about it before you made a terrible mistake?”
“I suppose so, but now am I not only not married, but I’ve lost my best friend,” wailed the poor young woman.
“My darling, don’t despair,” I cried, laughing slightly at the pathetic beauty seated at the base of my trunk. I moved the tip of one of my branches lightly across her cheek tenderly wiping a tear.
“You are yet young and will survive this, even if it doesn’t seem like it now. I promise you shall. It is my 157th birthday this spring – if we can call it ‘spring’ – and I have seen much from this corner here. I have seen marriage, death, life and birth. I have seen it all, sweetheart. I have seen young girls, such as yourself scorned by lovers and come out triumphant over and over again. All you need to remember, my darling, is that you are stronger than this.
“Take me, for example,” I creaked. “The wind and the snow may reign down on me and ravage my poor limbs but once this snow melts and the Father Sun warms the Great Earth, I will, once again, have lush green leaves and small pink flowers. And for another season I will be beautiful. But then autumn will come again and I will loose my beauty and winter will descend and with it will come raging gales and vile snow storms and I will be bald, naked and cold. And while, every year, that sucks, I do not despair. I know that once again spring will come and once again I will be warm and beautiful.”
Selene sniffled and smiled weakly at me.
“But it is spring now, Lady Dryad, look around, snow everywhere.”
“Yes, there is, isn’t there? The Great Mother sent wintry weather our way when it ought to be springtime, however, I know that this too will pass and once again it will be warm – my leaves will come out and my flowers will bloom. And yours will too, my dear.”
Selene laughed.
“But Lady Dryad, I have no leaves or flowers.”
In a low, warm voice I reassured her.
“Yes . . . you do.”
She looked at me, her beautiful brown eyes wide and tragic. She was sad still, yes, but there was hope behind the sorrow. She smiled through her tears and thanked me for my comforting words. She didn’t believe me completely, but she would. I told her to go home, warm up her Kung Pao Chicken and to sit with a good book or movie. She nodded and took off around the corner.
Selene never came back to visit me. However, a few years later, I saw her dressed in another long white gown entering the church across the street. A few hours later she emerged, grinning from ear to ear, clutching the arm of a good looking man who was not Sean. As they paused on the steps so their friends and family could take pictures and blow bubbles at them, I saw Selene look over at me. She nodded and gave me a subtle wave before they descended into the crowd of loving friends. I waved my branches back at her and sent some of my small pink flowers her way with the help of my friend, the Wind. I was happy.
She understood.