There’s a tree that holds a part of our history.
In another life, we stood together by this great big tree. It towered over us, taller than we would ever grow to be. We played beneath it with a camera, young and free.
I came across the tree today. My feet took me on a detour. At first I just marvelled at all the leaves making a blanket on the ground. Then I turned, drawn to the old thing.
Imagine if trees could tell stories of what they have seen. All the long, cold nights. All the people who have passed them. All the years of spreading their roots and growing up.
We played beneath this tree.
Now it is just a (majestic) tree.