The Tree


Whoever knows me truly, is aware of my affection to trees. I love their leaves and the sound they make as they are being kissed by the wind. I love their dancing shadows in the hottest of days. I love the life they bring; from insects, to animals, to us, to the planet. After all, without them, there would not be air to breath. I love the way they are all unique, just like us. Tall, small, thick and thin, abundant and on recovery, transitioning and evolving. And they breath, and they grow, and some grow older than any of could ever dream of.

But what I love the most about trees, is that on one of them I began to dream. Sitting on the highest branch on the back-yard tree, I escaped to many lives and many dreams. And I dared to dream that I could fly. And reach the moon, the stars and lands far away. And in a dream, I dreamed a tree, which guided my current path. And it guided my present and it guides my future. For a tree for me is like the fire to a caveman, the staff to a herder, the flour to the baker, the brush to a painter. But a tree is alive, it grows and grows. And in my dreams my tree reaches to the stars with me holding on tight, reaching higher, always just a little bit more.

So thank you tree. You hold my most precious childhood memories and with them my hopes. Thank you for the days I needed your embrace after a fight at home, where I would climb up high on you and forget it all. Thank you for the laughters as we tried to make you our little home, me and my siblings. Thank you for the soft melody through the whistling of your leaves. And thank you, because just like me, you were small, and I could reach you, and because of this we could reach the moon together.

Post a Comment

she writes