Tower of Tree, Power of Pi

 A tribute

By L. R. Gillson

Simply put, little stands that lacks a solid foundation. Mine is my family.  What follows are a few words of appreciation.  Only a few words are necessary, because we share an abundance of understanding.   So many have so much less. 

The tower of tree is a redwood, who ascends to heights so lofty as to keep watch over all else.  A tree so tall he can see with clarity the unobstructed paths for me to follow, and can guide me through.    The tower of tree is a massive oak, long-lived and wise.  His quiet strength and patience holds him in good stead against the forces that bring down lesser trees.  The tower of tree is a willow, who weeps only with compassion, not pity. 

As the ancient banyan extends it's profusion of limbs beyond the perimeter of what seems  possible, providing shade, shelter and comfort, my brother is the tower of tree.  

The power of pi is the highest in the universe.  She is an enigma, far more complex than she appears at first.  Pi is the constant from which I derive all strength, all love, all life.  She is the source of infinite spirit and growth.   In a world of variables, Pi has no end, and no equal.   Pi is my mother.   

I've often heard it said that raising a child is the hardest job in the world.  In my opinion, the only job more difficult is that of raising a child with a disability.  It requires a foundation an order of magnitude more unshakeable than any other.  I should know, because I've been standing on it.    My foundation has never even trembled. 

There is no tribute adequate to express the gratitude and love I have for my family.    Simply put, for me, little is possible without the tower of tree, the power of pi.   

I love you.

Copyright © 2005 by Laura Gillson. All rights reserved.