The Fallen Oak
The rain hammered against the windows of Elara's home, turning the surrounding fields into a shimmering, watery expanse. The rising floodwaters had turned her house into a temporary island, a stark reflection of the isolation creeping into her thoughts.
She worked from her laptop, trying to ignore the rising water and the rising panic within her. Then a scream, her sister, Lori from the kitchen. “Rob!” she yelled “There is no food!” Elara sighed, of course Rob had eaten everything. Her mind drifted to Nana, across town. Nana, who had always been a pillar of strength, now facing the quiet emptiness of a life without her dear friend, Tim.
Nana had always loved the large oak tree at the edge of her yard. It was a place where she felt close to her late husband. Now, the tree lay fallen, its roots exposed and vulnerable, a symbol of the sudden, unexpected losses that life dealt. It was after her husband passed that Tim moved into the area. He was a kind man, always ready with a story or a helping hand. They found solace in each other's company, sharing bus trips to the city, quiet afternoons at the museum, and simple breakfasts at the local diner. For two years, their friendship blossomed, a gentle warmth against the chill of loneliness. Then, just as suddenly as he had arrived, Tim was gone, leaving Nana to face the silence once more.
Nana remembered the time Tim had pointed to a small, almost hidden painting in the corner of the museum. 'Look,' he'd said, his eyes twinkling, 'even in the shadows, there's beauty to be found.' That simple observation had stayed with her, a reminder that even in her grief, there was still something to appreciate. Now, staring out at the rain-soaked yard, she wondered if she could still find that beauty in the face of the fallen tree. The oak, once a symbol of strength, now lay prone, its roots exposed and vulnerable. Just like her.
Elara remembered Nana's hands, always busy, always warm. As a child, she'd loved watching Nana knead dough, her movements rhythmic and comforting. Now, she imagined those hands, still and empty. She picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over Nana's contact. After the phone call failed, she decided to send a text. 'Nana, thinking of you. How are you doing? The rain is awful here, but I'm safe. Love, Elara.' She pressed send and waited, watching the little message bubble appear, then disappear. She hoped Nana's phone was charged, that she would see the message.
Outside, the rain intensified, the wind rattling the windows. Elara glanced at the floodwaters, now lapping even closer to the house. She felt a surge of anxiety, not just for herself, but for Nana, alone in her apartment. She imagined Nana sitting by her window, watching the rain, her thoughts drifting to Tim, to Grandpa, to all the losses she had endured. Elara decided to send another Text. 'Just wanted to say, I love you. And I'm going to come see you as soon as I can.'
Nana's phone buzzed softly on the small table beside her. She picked it up, her fingers trembling slightly. Elara's texts filled the screen, a burst of warmth in the grey afternoon. A small tear escaped her eye. She typed back, slowly, 'I'm alright, dear. Just missing everyone. Love you too. Be careful in the storm.' She put the phone down, a flicker of strength returning. Tim had always told her to appreciate the little things, the small connections. Elara’s text was a small thing, but it was a lifeline. She looked out the window again, at the fallen tree. She would make some tea, and perhaps, think about what to do about the fallen tree.
Suddenly, a loud crash came from the living room. Elara jumped, her heart pounding. “Rob!” Lori yelled, her voice laced with exasperation. Elara went to the living room. Rob was standing by the window, looking out at the rain, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. “What was that crash?” Elara asked. Rob shrugged. “Just moved a chair,” he mumbled, taking another bite. Elara noticed the chair was now blocking the door that lead to the back porch. "Rob." Elara said, "Please, not now." Rob looked at her, and for a moment, Elara saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He moved the chair back.
Elara watched the rain, the floodwaters still rising, and sent her text. 'I'm going to figure out how to get there soon.' She knew that the storm was far from over, but the promise kept her focused.
Nana sat by her window, the fallen tree a dark silhouette against the grey sky. The rain continued, a constant reminder of the unpredictable nature of life. Both women knew that the storm would eventually end, but what the world would look like after, remained unknown.
Tessa Yusoff
22 February 2025
The Fallen Oak: A Story of Loss and Connection #ShortStory #Fiction #Loss #Family #Rain #Resilience #Texting
