TyLangford

Do you remember that feeling you get when you were little and being held by your mum, how you could crawl up into a ball right in her lap and you've never felt safer? The world could be in complete chaos, you might be having the worst day ever, but being held, hearing her heart beat would make it all melt away. Well I feel that right now, sitting here in these gardens. I'm not being held, and my mother isn't anywhere near me, but I've still got that feeling of safety, the kind of safety that can only be gained from a giver of life.

Just from walking around the place, I find many different spaces in this garden. There is an extremely beautiful, tidy section surrounding a lake. Wooden and brass benches where young couples have come to sit with each other, hand in hand. Upon the lake is a family of ducks, a male and female leading six ducklings. The little ones are just finding their bearings, still struggling to swim in a straight line, overcome with excitement about the world. On the other side of the gardens there is a sea of red and green, surrounded by large, bone like, crooked trees with almost no leaves on them at all, protecting the ocean of rose bushes. At first glance it seems terrifying and uncomfortable, all untidy, uninviting and overgrown. However on closer inspection it is hauntingly beautiful. The large red roses are vivid against the dark green backdrop of the thorny stems and sharp leaves. The large looming trees all have a sense of similarity about them while each being quite unique. Their dark brown branches twist and bend in very different fashions, with crooked edges and knots, some intertwined with neighbouring branches. They serve a purpose, to protect people from the dangers inside, and protect the roses from the people.

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In the centre there is a large willow, which looks as though it has been here since the beginning of time. Its cracking, coarse bark completely surrounding its vast trunk is rough to touch. You can run your fingers through the hundreds of channels it has, where ants use them as trenches, protected from the outside world. The roots below have become deep and sturdy over many years, anchoring the tree in place. Not fearing the wind or the earth's movements, nothing shall make it move. I can almost feel the tree growing underneath me, the roots getting deeper into the earth, feeling its power and energy surging through the world, securing its place here with us. The dirt feels thick and abrasive under my bare feet, working its way between my toes as I move, happily disturbed by more life. A slight ray of sunshine that has travelled millions of kilometres fights its way through the wisping branches and leaves only to be disrupted from reaching the earth's surface by falling upon my face. Looking up I can see shades of blue coming and going through an umbrella of green. The long hanging branches are dancing in the slight breeze, as though they are the flowing gown of a beautiful lady in green, moving ever so gracefully through the world around her.

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Over by the lake a young couple are walking towards the water, they are both dressed in their finest clothes. The male is in a beautiful three-piece navy blue suit, with a maroon knitted tie baring a beautiful Windsor knot. In his lapel a handsome white carnation, matching his partner's headband, blooming with the same flower. She is wearing a flowing, white full-length summer dress that is brushing lightly across the grass around their bare feet. They come to a stop with their toes almost touching the water's edge. Turning to one another they hold their lover in a tight embrace before facing the water again. Hand in hand they take that first step into the lake, walking deeper and deeper until the water surrounds their waist. One of the ducklings swims by in a zigzag going after her brothers and sisters. 

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The couple turns to one another yet again, this time embracing with a passionate kiss as they descend fully into the lake. Almost no time passes before they emerge from the water. There is something held in their hug, they are holding a baby. Both mother and father have tears gliding down their cheeks reaching the corner of their wide smiles. They walk slowly out of the lake, both unable to take their eyes off the bundle of joy between them.  Even though they came straight out of the water, all three are completely dry as though they had just dressed, looking immaculate. The family walk over to large willow tree in the centre of the garden and take a seat among its roots. Slowly floating down from the branches above comes a clean, soft, tiny green blanket. Without taking his eyes off his son, the father reaches up with one hand and plucks the blanket from the air. Taking his child in his arms he wraps the boy in the blanket ever so gently. The dirt by the mother's side begins to move as the tip of a root protrudes the world's surface, it's wrapped around a small spotless brown cotton hat. The mother lightly takes the beanie from the root just before it returns back into the earth. She tenderly places the gift on the newest member of her family before she kisses him on his forehead. The three of them appear to be moulding into the tree that surrounds them as they sink deeper into each other's arms.

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Walking around the tree I come across an elderly man who is facing the large willow, one hand on its course trunk. He takes a large breath as he begins to move through the gardens. Without realising it I find myself following the elderly man, he appears to be in no hurry but I have the feeling he knows exactly where he is going. The man comes to a stop, standing between the two biggest trees that surround the collection of roses and thorns. He has a wooden walking stick that appears to be older than him. It is very detailed in its engravings, he relies on it so much it appears to be an extension of his arm. The man is wearing a dark red cardigan over a thick white shirt and a brown bowtie. Out of his pocket he pulls a worn and weathered pocket watch and with a small and definite metallic click the face swings open as though it was purchased yesterday. In the door of the watch I can make out an old black and white photograph of a beautiful young woman. The man rubs his thumb across her face in a loving manner no doubt for the thousandth time. With a small smile and a single tear rolling down his cheek he snaps the watch close before returning it to his cardigan pocket. He takes a deep breath, stands a little taller, drops his walking stick by his side, and strides into the sea of roses. The thorns and flowers twist and turn making a path for the elderly man, and slowly wind back into place behind him blocking the path once again. Soon thereafter I can no longer hear any movement from the roses. He is gone.

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Once again the dirt begins to move, this time it is underneath the walking stick that is lying on the ground and swiftly and quickly the old sculptured piece of wood falls into the earth. I try to comprehend what I have witnessed while I walk back to the tree. As I reach the centre of the garden I see a man walk towards the willow while holding his sons hand. The boy couldn't be older than six. I wouldn't have taken much notice but the man is lightly crying. He keeps his face turned away from his child, not letting him see the emotional state he is in. It appears to be working, the boy is walking happily along, muttering to himself only to be intervened with a soft "ah yes" or "is that right?" from his dad. The man reaches the tree and places one hand on the trunk, much like the older gentlemen did before him. With a quiet but definite crack a split forms underneath his hand. From the dark centre of the tree appears an object; it's the elderly man's walking stick. The father takes it in both his hands, closes his eyes and with a deep breath falls to his knees, now unable to control the tears streaming down his face. It is at this point the boy realises his father's emotional state. Without saying a word the boy crawls between his Dad's arms, curls into a ball and rests his head on his fathers chest, hearing his heartbeat. Dad, still eyes tightly shut, wraps his arms around his boy, one hand still gripping the walking stick. 

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I reach the bony, lifeless trees surrounding the ocean of red and green without realising I was walking. The bushes twist and turn, they must be closing the path behind the elderly lady I noticed not long ago. I find myself standing between the two largest trees, staring deep into the thorns and flowers.  I take one deep breath and look at my feet. By my toes I see a sparkle in the dirt. As I drop to one knee I realise it's a golden ring, I get one good look at it before the earth takes it away. I can imagine a young woman standing by the large willow, tears running down her face, maybe accompanied by a youthful girl. She's waiting for the tree to bring her some closure. I can almost feel the overwhelming emotion she will feel once the tree presents the ring, just like the father before felt. Much like the feeling the parents had by the lake earlier, but also quite different. Maybe there isn't a reason we're here. Maybe that's okay. I think of all the faces I've seen, and the millions of faces that are yet to pass through the garden. I stand up straight, take a deep breath and close my eyes once more.