A Letter To The Tree On My Front Lawn

Dear Tree,

You are the last of your kind in my yard–the sole survivor. The others were banished–forced to spend eternity in the backyard, living out the rest of their miserable years as kindling or firewood. But here you are standing firmly rooted.

It’s the heart of the summer season. Everything around is flourishing green with hints of gold, as if the Sun stepped down from the thrown to establish his kingdom with well deserved knighthood–a blade to the left shoulder, a blade to the right.

Apparently you were found undeserving.

I’ve known you for so long, yet I don’t know you. I can’t call you by any formal name. Your branches hang like the Willow, which I know you are not. You’re pretty naked, Tree, except the few buds that are brown and withered.

It’s the heart of the summer season but you don’t dress yourself in verdant gowns or vibrant robes. You’ve shed every layer so that I can see the smooth curves of your young limbs and the weathered skin that’s been exposed to children’s grubby hands and cleated shoes, to lovers’ narcissistic branding, to woodpeckers’ insatiable hunger.

Every bough droops low. The burden of feeling alone while the rest of the world stands next to you thriving must be too heavy for your branches. I don’t blame you for looking so sad.

I’m looking at you now, though, from the inside. And though you’re a reminder of my childhood past, you’re also an eerie reflection of my underwhelmed present. And I know what comes next: autumn will steal the youthful glow from the rest of the world, marking everything with an aged beauty –the golden hour will stretch itself too thin too quickly–the cold, barren winter will drag its feet in leisure. Once spring comes, you’ll be radiant with a blossom of new growth.

That’s because you’re a tree.

I, however, am a person. And I don’t have the luxury of marked seasons to rely on. But I see you, Tree. And you have better days ahead of you, and you’ve had better days behind. But until the better days find you, know that I see you–I see you for who you were, who you are, and who you can be. And hopefully that’s enough for now.

All my love,
L.

 

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