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  • Writer's pictureDiana Scalia


Well, there has finally been a little sunshine here at the beach.

I went to Café’ Bonaparte this morning and sat outside at a table half sunny, half shaded. The sun was so bright. I wasn’t wearing sunnies which I must remember next time because sunnies hide eye rolls, like the ones I couldn’t not do re: the loud lady at the next table and her grey jogger with the black trim debacle. I wrote Elizabeth that my fuse was not so short today; had it been I would have had to scream, Shut the F- up!!!!!

Well. We see that my fuse is still a little short.

Last night when Elizabeth and I had a date – on her birthday, to console me – she asked if I’d been to visit my little tree since I’d been back from France?

I had not. I had thought about it and, it has rained and been too cold, and … gratefully my little tree, whom I call Arbolita, is like Mama. She is always happy to see me and would never be less than unconditionally loving at all times. I vowed to visit her as soon as possible.

Today, after my grocery shop and admin things, I decided it was a good time.

Let me tell you a little about Arbolita, and then I am going to share the poem I wrote for her, that she loves for me to read to her, at least twice during each visit. Her poem is handwritten, on a piece of journal paper, and it lives safely in a zipper bag, in my beach blanket bag, that goes with me each time I visit.

Arbolita lives at the park down the street, by the sea. She is relatively short, and crooked. To me, she is perfect. We made friends years ago, when I began hosting park picnics for people I loved. I always was drawn to be near her.

I say that she has other fans, but that she loves me the best. We talk to each other, and love each other deeply. Our visit today was perfect as usual.

That’s all I will say about her for now; her poem will tell you more.


my dearest

most precious

crooked little tree

how much do i love you

not sure i can count the ways

you held me

at my darkest hours

for hours at a time

just lean in, you cooed

so i did

i felt so safe

so loved

so deeply loved

my mama was passing

then she passed

i felt lost

so you showed me missing pieces of myself

because you knew where they were

days when I’d entirely forgotten

who I was

you helped me remember

that i was the daughter

of the divine

that the hands of Love

were holding mine

you still have a mama

i heard you whisper

you are Her beloved child

and always will be

thank you Gaia

my precious Mother Earth

for cradling me

for comforting me

for giving me


for her gifts

for how she held me

with her precious love

for blessing me

with the knowingness that

Grace holds

and carries me now

always has

always will

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