Words That Became My Amulet | Going to Meet the Me of That Day

"You're like a willow tree,"
a colleague once said to me.
That was back in my lovely days as a 20-year-old maiden.

A willow?
That willow that always comes with ghosts?
That willow that appears in period dramas?
Calling a lovely 20-year-old maiden a willow?

"You look like you're about to fall, but you never do."
That was the phrase that followed.

I couldn't honestly accept it as a compliment.
I wasn't yet capable of reading between the lines.

I felt uneasy.

I'm sure my face must have had "bewilderment" written all over it.

Twitch.
Along with a slight anger mark.

That "willow" I was called back then.

I had a slender build at the time, so
perhaps he meant it in a physical sense—that I looked like I would break, but wouldn't.

He must have been in his mid-thirties back then.
I thought of that man as an old guy.

Now, I am completely older than he was.

The maiden who has matured into an adult
has come to think, "I want to acquire suppleness."

And, in my image of suppleness,
the willow has started to appear.

Even though I never see a real willow,
is it because of my age that I imagine one?
Or is it because those words from back then have stayed with me?

There were times when I thought
I could no longer find a reason to live.

I had things I had nurtured with care taken away from me,
and I was crushed by misery and regret.
I became afraid to trust people.

At such times, along with those words,
a willow would come to mind.

No matter how strong the wind blows,
it lets its hair fly in disarray, twists its body, and holds its ground.

And when the wind stops,
it stands quietly again as if nothing had happened.

I have been saved by that image time and time again.

Perhaps I have lived my life by projecting myself onto that willow.

If someone calls me a willow now, I can smile back.
I might even try haunting them as a ghost.