This old chestnut- a tale of broken heartedness

On my walk the other day I noticed there were a scattering of chestnuts on the ground.

Some had been driven over by cars and their green spiny shells were cracked wide open

Inside the nut gleamed like polished wood- a beautiful jewel of a thing.

I pondered that I hadn’t even known there was a chestnut growing on the edge of this road.

Looking up I could see it wasn’t very large but it was there. A survivor of the blight that took out so many of it’s relatives across the country.

I picked up the nut and the spikey heart shaped shell carefully and took them home. It felt connected to me somehow, as if it had a message. (I was in the middle of separating from my husband at the time).

After a week of walking past it on my kitchen table, this little story came out of it.

Don’t worry about the broken hearts.

I protected them as long as I could.

Finally I let them go.

They were taken, smashed, eaten. Many will rot on the road.

Do not grieve for the broken hearts for it’s their destiny to fall.

They are meant to be given away- potential seeds of the future.

Keeping little squirrels fat and happy.

Don’t mistake this for a tragic end.

For the tree above grows wide and her roots run deep. She scatters the earth with her heart shaped thorny seeds and hopes that someone will break them open.

There are more than enough. Season after season there will be more.

Breaking hearts all over the road. Vulnerable. Abundant. Destined to grow.