Today we went for a walk in the forest. It wasn’t like the park—there are slides and dogs there. The forest is quiet. So quiet you can hear yourself thinking.
I stepped on the fallen leaves and wondered how something could be so noisy and so quiet at the same time. Mom walked ahead, looking at the trees, and I looked at the little stones. One thought passed through my head, then another. As if they were playing hide and seek.
“What is Emma doing right now?”
“Do squirrels get bored when no one is watching them?”
“If the forest is alive… can it hear what we’re thinking?”
– Mom? – I asked her. – What do you think about when you walk and don’t talk?
– Oh… all kinds of things – she smiled. – Sometimes I think about tomorrow. Sometimes about you. Sometimes I just listen to what the forest is telling me.
“The forest talks?!” – my eyes grew wide.
– Really?
Mom laughed, but she didn’t say “no.” So maybe it does talk. Just in a tree-language.
Then we sat on a tree stump. And we were silent. But not like when you’re upset. Like when everything feels right.
And I thought to myself…
Maybe the forest is a place where thoughts can take a walk without bumping into each other.
Maybe that’s why grown-ups come here—not just to walk, but to sort out their thoughts. Sometimes I watch Mom and I see she’s not really with me in her mind. But now she was. We were together.
Maybe…
– For real? – I whispered softly to myself. And I think the forest winked at me with a leaf.