A short story

Does it get better?

I sit under the white oak tree
Admiring its shade I lean towards it silently
And I spill out my thoughts wondering if it can hear me.

How many people have you met? How many people have sat in this exact spot?

Sometimes it gets so hard to continue. I wonder if you've met someone like me who felt so overwhelmed that they weren't sure if they can continue. Did they return and tell you how ridiculous that thought might have been back then? Did they continue and regret thinking they couldn't make it? Did it get better or did they tell you they're only continuing because they're afraid of giving up?

My eyes drift to an old woman walking and taking a seat on the other side of the tree. "It got better," she said reclining against it.