The Wind Whispers

The Wind Whispers- Olivia Engstrom (Groton School, 11th Grade)

Yesterday by the Beatles invades my vulnerable mind as I begin to wake. Sapphires and

quartz dance around my face as my eyes slowly open to see the suncatcher toying with the light

from the rising sun filtering through the windows. My body creaks and groans as I rise from the

daybed, whose accompanying pillows lay scattered across the hardwood floor from the restless

night. With a bippity-boppity-boo, my hands magically transform the night's mess back into a

kitchen bench.

It Never Rains in California commands my feet to do a little dance as I open the window,

careful not to unhook the suncatcher from the screw it hangs fastened to. Luckily, I'm not in

California, and the outside wind marches into my kitchen of wooden counters and granite

countertops, bringing the smell of morning dew from last night's downpour. From the quietly

buzzing fridge I grab my filmjölk and some assortment of berries that have stained far too many

of my clothes blue and crimson. At the ovular oak table, I sit with my bowl of berries and

filmjölk as I watch the sun rise further into the sky, stretching its arms to touch the leaves of the

trees and blowing gently outside.

Blackbird by the Beatles plays as I dress quietly and slowly. My brown overalls hang

loosely over my shoulders and fall perfectly to my ankles. Woolen socks itch but warm my feet

as they slide from the bathroom back to the kitchen, where the birds outside sing more clearly

now that their voices have woken fully. My easel stands nestled between large windows and a

corner of the kitchen with a table composed of scattered paint tubes and brushes that are worn

from their battles against blank canvases. This morning, I command my brushes into another

assault against blandness as I begin painting the orchid that sits on a countertop.

Sunday by the Cranberries accompanies me outside into my garden of Eden, where

vegetables and fruits grow wildly. Some are bruised from worms, others half gone from rabbits

and deer that come for a snack during the night. Last night's rain means I don't need to water my

darlings as the soil beneath them is already full of moisture. So, I prance to the towering old oak

that wisely swings in the breeze. As it swings, I swing my arms and legs to clamber onto its

supportive branches and ascend into the treetops full of dewy leaves. As I reach a suitably thick

branch, I place myself comfortably against the tree's body and let my legs swing freely on either

side of the branch. The day passes quietly as I sit in my tree and watch the world fly away, with a

book in hand and eyes watching like an owl.

---------------

Some people want to be rich, others want a nice family, and others want big houses with

plenty of room for parties and strange shenanigans. I just want to be left alone. Preferably,

somewhere with a calm climate, warm but not hot in the summer and cold but not freezing in the

winter. Alone does not encapsulate the complexity of the life I seek; I don't wish to be lonely, but

rather just free of society and its insufferable constraints. I want to wake up in my kitchen

listening to songs I love. I want to have slow mornings with nature as a backing track. I want to

spend my days doing what I love most: painting, gardening, climbing trees, reading, and not

caring, while I watch the days turn into nights and winters into summers.

I am a firm believer that climbing trees or climbing anything for that matter, is what

brings you to find what you most want to do in life. For minutes or hours, you heave weight from

one arm to another and one foot to the other, rhythmically finding footholds and supports to help

your ascent. The hand reaches, the foot tests, the mind is blank. Muscle memory from those

childhood afternoons spent scaling anything you could kick in as your thoughts disappear.

Finally, when there is nowhere for your hand to reach but the sky, you stand (or sit) triumphantly

amongst the branches of 400 million-year-old species, out of breath and looking out over the

ground you're so often constrained to. Here, in this exact moment, clarity finally comes and

whispers in your ear what you need to hear.

The first time I remember climbing a tree, I was 7 years old. Outside the tram station near

my Stockholm home stood an unremarkable tree beside a little brook. One day before school,

while waiting for the tram with my sister, I got bored and simply left, searching for something

exhilarating. As I searched and my sister told me to go back and wait, the unremarkable tree

came into view, and I immediately knew what to do. I dropped my purple backpack, and

childishness lifted a weight off my shoulders as I began scaling the tree. My hand reached, my

foot tested, and my mind went blank. Eventually, I reached the peak of this mountainous tree and

looked down at my sister, who was yelling at me to go back to the tram station. As I stood

amongst the branches, the wind flew and seemed to whisper to me, “Stay childish, stay free.”

The tram came during my moment of revelation and my sister was mad, and we were late for

school.

Every time I climb a tree, I hear the same whisper in my ear. Although I understood what

the whisper meant, I was confused as to what the meaning behind it was. Only after I moved to

America did I fully appreciate it. At this point, I was 15 and hadn't climbed a tree in years

because I had left my childish ways behind me. That was until one day, after a wintery walk with

two friends, I decided that the tree near the whispering bench looked particularly fabulous.

Running ahead of my friends, I quickly let my body fall into the rhythm of climbing. My hand

reached, my foot tested, and my mind went blank. As my friends pulled out their phones to film

my childish behavior, I reached the top of the tree and let the wind whisper the same message

into my ear. “Stay childish, stay free.” Still, I didn't understand the meaning behind this cryptic

message, so I ignored it.

I think the word "realization" is boring. So when it was math class the following day, I

had a “realization” that it was much more like a revelation, whimsical and uncommon. My

revelation came in the form of a little red house with white window sills, a beautiful kitchen with

granite countertops, a day bed, an easel with oil paints, a suncatcher, a garden, and a beautiful

tree. While learning about SSA triangles, I finally understood the whispers from the wind.

Often, while growing up, we grow up. We tend to lose our childishness as we become

adults. Although that entails losing some immaturity, it also entails losing the sense of curiosity,

adventurousness, freedom, and appreciation for the world that children have. When I look at my

little cousins, I don't see someone concerned with their English grades or what college they will

go to; I see someone who asks an endless amount of questions, thinks every tiny pebble is

glorious and memorable, and does not think twice about climbing a tree. This brings them a

sense of freedom as they fully disregard what their parents and older cousins tell them. Who's

gonna stop them from wearing a dragon onesie to a fancy dinner? Who's gonna stop them from

shaving their eyebrows? Who's gonna stop them from climbing a giant tree even if they might

fall and break all their bones?

It seems that the wind whispers what our inner child wishes to tell us. The inner child

feels safe when climbing a tree, and so the true original form of yourself whispers to you what

the true you wants to do. Letting the child within you feel safe enough to come out and explore is

what ends up leading you to authenticity and it is the childish curiosity that brings fearlessness,

and fearlessness that brings freedom from the constraining society we have built. As we grow up,

we are expected to dress nicely, sit still all day, do homework for too long, work a job we don't

love, and not climb trees even if we like to. So, during that math class, I finally understood what

I wanted for my future: to ignore everyone else's opinion about me climbing trees and spending

my days painting and gardening. While ignoring rules of congruency, I resolved to live life freely

and childishly, appreciating every tiny pebble, climbing trees, and doing what I love. And so

climbing a tree after a winter walk while two friends make fun of you can lead to the greatest

revelation of your life, and I thoroughly recommend it.

---------------

All My Loving by the Beatles plays as I descend my tree and pass through my garden to

the glass doors that lead into my kitchen. I rearrange the day bed from its bench form into the

bed form and go into the bathroom to change into some pajamas. Quietly, I clean up the

paintbrushes I used earlier while my dinner warms in the oven. As I watch the birds fly back into

their nests to tuck the little chicks into bed, I eat some lasagna and think about the life I would

have lived if I hadn't climbed a tree one random wintery day. Would I still be happy? Maybe.

Would I still be authentically me? No.

Dream a Little Dream of Me by the Mamas & the Papas plays as my limbs sink into my

bed, surrounded by the warmth of my blanket. The wind rustling outside lulls me into hypnosis,

and my eyelids grow heavier. My final thoughts before flying away into the world of dreams:

How can I be more childish tomorrow?

How can I continue to live free?