About Dunwoody reporter. (Sandy Springs, GA) 20??-current | View Entire Issue (Dec. 2, 2024)
banish my negative thoughts. There were "too many browser tabs open" in my cluttered, worried brain. A soft breeze and the sweet and spicy smell of decaying leaves began to quiet my internal noise. I looked more intently around me at the fall colors of this southern forest filled with hickories, sassafras, sourwood, beech, maples, native magnolias, oaks, and sycamores. The leaves of the deciduous sassafras tree, which grow in three different shapes, have long been a favorite. Every autumn, they turn shades of red and yellow. The elliptical, watermelon-colored version of these leaves bring back memories of my childhood in a wooded neighborhood on the outskirts of Atlanta. I marveled, as I always do, at the hundreds of bigleaf magnolia leaves dominating the forest floor with their silver undersides facing up—now allowed a view of the sky. The massive leaves lay in still, pale ponds circling slender trunks. Some, caught on branches, looked like flags and banners celebrating the cycles of life. At a bend in Cabin Creek, I found a dozen trout fry, darting about in the clear water and hiding under fallen leaves. Over the years, as I’ve walked this trail, I’ve seen generations of these little fish—hatching, growing, and then making their way downstream to the river: the comforting, repeated refrains of nature. What to do next? As I continued my downhill trek toward the river, I saw a woman walking toward me. Something in her face told me that we were both in the woods for the same reason. As a young Black woman, her experiences and challenges assuredly differed from mine, but as women and mothers of sons we found commonality in our worries about the future. We asked each other: “What is next? What do we do now?” The river and the woods were calming, but couldn’t answer our questions. We wished each other well and walked on. At the river, I lay my jacket on the ground and sat cross-legged watching the gray-green water flow around the jagged rocks and islands on its way to the sea. I made a foolish decision and looked at my cell phone for news and messages from friends; the rapid breathing returned. Finally, I put the phone down to lie on the ground, just inches from the edge of the water. Gazing skyward, I scanned the tree canopy above me, watched the sun periodically emerge from gray clouds, and listened to the river. An hour or more passed. My breathing slowed. Nature’s gifts of peace and healing filled me, as my mind and body seemed to merge with the river. I’m still searching for answers to the question of what to do next, but I know it will include greater emphasis on family, community, and nature—and that indifference and surrender will not prevail. As philosopher Albert Camus wrote: “In the depth of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.” high.org/CultureCollectiveEvents Gift Ideas for Curious Minds ROUGHDRAFTATLANTA.COM DECEMBER 2024 | 19
