Fifteen years ago we planted a tree in the front yard of our new home and dedicated it to the little life we had just planting in this world. Over the years we watched it grow and even as our marriage ended that little tree kept adding branches…growing stronger…taller. A growing symbol of the resilience of love.
It seemed that no matter what went wrong in life I could count on that tree to keep growing. Every so often on walks the kids and I would wander by and I’d point to that tree that not only represented the birth and life of my son, but the beginning of our family.
Now I’m wise enough to know that things come and go. That as I no longer own that home I have no real say in the upkeep of that very special sycamore but this, this doesn’t make sense to me. The tree is not sick. The tree is not poorly placed. It’s not threatening any power lines or encroaching on any structure. This just feels senseless to me. So tonight as I retreated from the site of our ruined tree I was comforted only in the knowledge that while that tree may have merely been a symbol, that the love it represents will grow on forever in the branches of my own family tree.
Mannino Acid 