From Wild to Serene

Ella felt like she was going to explode from all of the energy inside her.  She pushed on the big blue preschool door, and straining against the weight, grunted and groaned. She was bent at the knee, and using all her might, but it wasn’t until she leaned into the door with her shoulder that it finally opened.

Ella leaped outside and let out a mighty, “ROOOOAR!”

She was quickly silenced by autumn’s chill, and vaguely aware of the slam, and then click, of the door as it closed again. Ella shivered. The crisp air felt like a slap to her bare arms, but the sun’s warm rays wrapped around her body in a comforting hug. Ella closed her eyes,  turned her face to the sky, and took a deep breath. 

“Mama! Let’s go to the forest!” she exclaimed, twirling in circles.

A sudden gust of wind sent a cluster of fallen leaves swirling from one end of the sidewalk to the other. They scratched the pavement upon liftoff, and again as they floated back down to the ground. The wind fueled Ella’s spinning, and soon she was going so fast that she could hear a whooshing sound in her head with each rotation. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was breathing fast.

“You need to be careful and pay attention  in the parking lot. Take my hand, and we’ll walk to the woods,” her mom said.

Ella steadied herself and reached for Mama’s hand, but she was dizzy, and couldn’t walk straight. 

“Let’s wait a minute, and see if it passes. You could try spinning in the opposite direction. Sometimes that helps,” her mom suggested.

Ella did her best ballerina twirl in the reverse direction, and soon, her dizziness had resolved. She took her mom’s hand and squeezed it as hard as she could. Mama’s hand was squishy, but Ella was trying to feel the bones underneath.

“Gentle, Ella. That hurts me,” Mama scolded.

“Sorry,” Ella murmured.

They walked to the back of the parking lot, stepped over the curb, and headed for the trail that would lead them into the woods. The branches above them swayed in the breeze, their leaves rustling with each shake.

“Mama, I need my sweatshirt!” Ella shuddered, as another gust of wind whipped across the path.

She patted her arms and her body began to  tremble while she waited for her mom to get the warm layer out of her backpack. Mama handed it to her, and Ella slipped each arm through a sleeve. She became distracted by a band of blue jays jeering at one another, and forgot to zip up. 

“ROOOOOAR!” Ella growled at the birds.

The jays paid her no mind and continued to heckle each other.

“You birds be quiet! ROOOOOAR!” Ella tried again.

Her voice vibrated in the back of her throat, and Ella liked the sensation. She roared a few more times just for fun.

“Come, Ella,” her mom said, hurrying her along.

They weren’t in a rush. Ella knew this was Mama’s way of asking her to stop being so noisy. She didn’t think it was fair for adults to tell kids they had to be quiet outside. The outdoors was meant for loud noises.

Ella dawdled behind Mama, stopping every once in a while to examine a stone or acorn.

“Mama, wait!” she gasped.

She crouched down to observe something small and fuzzy.

“It’s a wooly bear!” Ella cried.

She scooped up the black-on-both-ends-and-brown-in-the-middle furry caterpillar with a cupped hand. The woolly bear immediately rolled itself up. Ella gently petted the fuzz ball with one finger. It remained tightly curled in the defensive posture. Ella resisted the urge to crush it.

“It’s scared, Mama. I should let it go,” Ella whispered.

She gave the insect one final pet, then opened her hand so it was flat against the ground. The earth was cool and damp, and Ella couldn’t wait to sink her fingernails into the dirt. She waited patiently for the woolly bear to crawl off her hand. Finally, the caterpillar got up and began to move. Its brown and black bristles lightly tickled her palm. 

Once it had marched off her hand and onto the ground, Ella dug her fingernails into the soft, chilly soil. She packed a handful tightly in her fist, then patted it smooth. She looked up to see that Mama was far ahead. Ella dropped the dirt and took off running.

She zoomed past her mom, feet smacking the hard packed trail, and didn’t stop until she’d reached the two old oaks where she knew Mama would stop and let her play. Ella sat on the ground and collected a pile of acorns. 

Two squirrels scrambled down the bigger tree, their nails scraping the bark as one chased after the other. The wind blew, and Ella watched the branches dance above her.  Again, she heard the rustle of the leaves swaying back and forth, and then suddenly, a shower of acorns came cascading down, narrowly missing her head. The nuts made a popping sound as they hit the earth. 

Mama finally caught up to Ella under the oaks.

“Do you want your hammock?” she asked.

Ella nodded, and helped her mom set it up. 

“I’m going to swing in it, first,” she said, once Mama had secured the hammock to the straps.

Ella sat on the edge of the fabric and pushed off with her feet. She rocked back, and then swung forward. She pushed off again and again, swinging faster, and faster. The last time she pushed with a little too much force, and fell off the hammock, backwards. She landed on her back with a thud.

“I’m okay!” she assured her mom.

“You didn’t hit your head, did you?” Mama fretted.

“No, I didn’t. Will you push me?” Ella wanted to know.

She brushed herself off and climbed back in the hammock. This time, she shed her shoes, and laid back to rest. Mama held onto one of the straps and pushed gently.

“Faster, Mama!” Ella cried.

The hammock picked up speed, and Ella pulled the sides down over her. She nestled in, and closed her eyes. She drifted off to sleep while the calming sounds of nature played around her.