consider sharing.

a short story about something every piece of this breathing earth knows how to do.

Out the window: white canvas, tangle of grey trunks exploding out. Austere, cold, the kind of snow great thinkers might have thought on.

Then there’s this little bouncy grey squirrel emerging from the treescape. He (let’s say he) launches off the snow like a skipped stone on water, stopping right under the young forsythia in my view. Behind the glass, I watch as he dives his little paws into the 14 inches of snow, tunneling down. Two seconds max of digging before pausing to check for threats, and then back in: digdigdigdigdigdigdig – look – digdigdigdigdigdig –look. The rhythm is so comical, yet honest. He digs himself down until all I see is the wiry tail, little shoulders and spine all covered in snow. Just when I begin to wonder if he’s in the right spot, jackpot! Two little paws arise out of the back of the fridge with the prize: hickory nut. With pleasure, we both enjoy the nut, right there. It’s cold, snow dusted, perfectly preserved, like pistachio ice cream from the bougie ice cream store. I swear I can taste it too.

After snack, I wonder what’s next. It’s back to digdigdigdigdigdigdig – look – digdigdigdigdigdig –look. More tunneling this time, more effort. But it’s there, he knows, and after a few more minutes of the frantic yet careful motions that only squirrels possess, he’s got another one. In slow motion, I watch him turn back towards the red oak, consider, then launch his way up to a tiny hole I never noticed before – dull human that I am. In no time at all he’s upside down, 50 ft. up a tree, peering into the hole below with the treat in his mouth. Two paws emerge from the hole, grab the nut, then disappear. A smile spreads across my face, my whole heart. Sharing, something every piece of this breathing earth knows how to do. Empty handed now, he climbs to the highest crook in the tree, orients towards the sun. I sit with him there, satisfied, faces to the bright morning sun together.

The memory of this squirrel planting nuts last fall like a maniac comes back to the foreground. I wondered then how he would ever remember where they all were buried, among so many other squirrel stashes, much less how he’d get them out. Brilliance. It is utter brilliance that we humans are surrounded by, not the other way around. We do though, sometimes align ourselves in just the right position for that brilliance to be reflected back onto us…sometimes.