The beauty of the weeping willow

When I was home in Washington, D.C. over Thanksgiving break, as my mom and I drove over a bridge on the Potomac River,  I saw a weeping willow tree down below. I guess I’ve never seen a weeping willow from far away before, I was so struck by it and captivated by it’s beauty. At first glance it didn’t even quite seem real, the way it’s branches and leaves cascaded down looked more like an impressionistic painting than any weeping willow I had seen. I was surprised by the strong desire and urgency with which I felt that I had to stop the car. This beauty was so enthralling that I became angered by how quickly our car was going, knowing that in a moment or two it would be out of view. Unfortunately for me, though perhaps fortunate for all the other drivers on the bridge,  my mom was the one behind the wheel.

    “Mom!! Do you see that weeping willow?!” I exclaimed as she looked over at it. “Isn’t it so beautiful?!! Ahh, I wish we could stop the car so we could get out and just look at it for awhile!” I said this hoping that somehow she might catch the underlying message I was trying to stealthily get across: stop the car, I need to get out and appreciate this. She didn’t. “Oh yeah, that’s pretty.” I was dissatisfied and disappointed with her response. Was she not looking at the same thing I was looking at? Maybe she didn’t really see it, since she did have an eye on the road. So I gave up trying to be sneaky and just straight out asked if we could please stop the car and look at this tree, if only for a moment. She said no, since we were running slightly behind and needed to get to the Thanksgiving feast we were expected at in Virginia. The pain I felt as I car kept speeding past was nearly physical. My eyes followed the tree until it was entirely out of sight.

    Now that I was released and not as enraptured as it was no longer before my eyes, I became puzzled by my intense reaction (as I’m sure my mom was as well). I was reminded of something I had read or heard in class, I believe C.S. Lewis authored it, about how simply seeing a beautiful thing is not satisfying enough for us. We desire more, we seek unity with the beautiful. This is indeed true of my experience. While I so desired to stop and gaze upon the willow tree, I had an even deeper desire to physically climb down to where it was and touch its leaves, climb up in it’s branches, be hidden by it. Maybe I’ll go  there someday and do just that.