Page 88 of Courage, Dear Heart

I call out to Sheila. “Can you keep an eye on Jamie? I want to show Elliott something.”

Sheila’s eyes widen as she catches my meaning. “Sure. We’ll be here, playing.”

I smile at my son. “I’ll be right back. You be good for Sheila, okay?”

Elliott takes my hand. “Show me the way.”

We walk in silence as I guide him away from the open grass and into a path under the trees. I can feel his gaze on me as I pick my way through the plants growing over the dirt path until we reach the spot I want to show him.

I take my sandals off and step on the ground barefoot. Cool grass meets my feet. I pick my way, choosing the dark green patches of moss growing in the shaded spots under the massive trees. Toes and heels sinking into the ground, still damp from today’s early morning rain. The North Woods were always our favorite part of Central Park. Here it’s easy to forget you’re in the middle of one of the largest cities in the world. Here the sound of traffic and people is drowned by the wrestling of leaves in the wind, birds singing, and the rush of water.

It’s a magical place, a healing place, a place to walk barefoot and let the earth take away your pain and troubles.

I walk farther into the secluded area, findour‘hugging tree’ and embrace it. Rest my face on the rough bark, inhale deep, the air heavy with moisture and the scent of damp earth and trees. Everything is verdant, a million different shades and hues of every green imaginable. I let myself go.

Throughout this entire time, Elliott has not said a word. He stands next to my sandals like a guardian. The sandals waiting for me to put them back on and return to my former self.

I close my eyes and open my heart. I give myself permission to feel something other than grief and pain. I don’t want to go back to being that person anymore. It’s high time I figure out who I am. Find a new version of myself that exists in a world where CJ no longer does and find a way to make peace with it, to be happy again. For myself. For Jamie. But also for CJ.

To live like I have for the last two years tarnishes his memory. I open my eyes. Elliott’s gaze is locked on me. I don’t hold the words in. “CJ was the happiest, sunniest, most carefree person I’ve ever met. He always trusted that everything would work out, one way or another.” My voice feels intrusive among the sounds of nature. Like speaking too loud in church.

Elliott takes a few steps closer to me.

“We used to come here all the time. To this very tree. We called it our hugging tree. We’d take off our shoes to better connect with nature. And hug this tree, me here and he on the other side, with the tree between us. We’d stay quiet forseveral minutes and let go of all the little things that occupy everyday life.”

Elliott places a hand on the tree. His fingers spread, he steps closer, touches his forehead to the bark, and closes his eyes.

I watch him, surprised by the gesture. By his willingness to share in this moment.

He drags a deep breath, then releases it. “A part of me envies him. Envies his ability to trust and to see the good in the world. I was never given that chance.” His eyes stay closed as he speaks. “My entire life was a list of tasks to accomplish. Even now, there are expectations. I grew up in a world where only first place mattered. Win at any cost. Be the best, no matter what.”

He squeezes his eyes. “I was taught the value of a person resides in what they can do for you or how you can use them to further yourself, to build your career, to make more money or gain more power.”

I have the urge to touch him, to run my hand through his hair, to hold him. To hold the little boy he once was and cover his ears so he doesn’t have to listen to these awful things he was told. I don’t do any of these things.

He tilts his head my way, opens his eyes. There’s no glint of humor, no charming wink, none of the upbeat expressions I’ve grown used to seeing on his face. What I see is someone who’s lost and uncertain of his footing.

He swallows. “I’ve never talked to anyone about this. It’s . . . hard and also freeing. I’ve never been one to do a lot of soul-searching. Feelings, I’ve been taught are a weakness, something to be put aside and not delved into.”

I laugh then, a humorless sound that scratches at my throat. “What a pair we make. Me feeling everything and drowning in emotions, and you not feeling anything at all.”

His gaze searches my face. His hand drags up the bark. He touches his fingertips to mine. A barely there connection. “Perhaps we can meet somewhere in the middle.”

Texts & Heartbeats

Elliott: If you could meet any historical figure, who would it be?

Jillian: Eleanor Roosevelt. She did so much for equality and human rights. What about you?

Elliott: Abraham Lincoln. He was a man ahead of his time. Did you know he only had a few months of formal education as a young child and was completely self-taught?

Jillian: Ah yes. I remember learning about it in school.

Elliott: Imagine that kind drive in a time where everything was against him. From extreme poverty to becoming the 16th President of the United States.

FORTY-EIGHT

Jillian

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