Saturday, March 17, 2012

Old apple tree

Eeeeeekkkkk the trees are getting flowers! There is nothing more beautiful than that. Today I pulled over on a pretty busy street, left the car and sat on a sidewalk for a bit admiring the median. A few miles of trees in pink bloom. Was I always infatuated with trees? As a kid I used to love claiming on the apple tree near my house and eat not so ripe apples. One thing I can remember clearly is how much I liked the smell of the bark on my hands after I claimed up to my favorite branch. I sat on the same branch as a teenager listening to the leaves whispering to the wind. I once even wrote a short novel about the stories the tree and the wind told each other. The wind was always telling the tree about the miracles it saw on its journey around the world. The tree giggled so hard that the leaves started falling. The tree told the wind stories about ever changing life around it. Kids growing. Houses being build. New pets. New trees. New people.
Not too long ago I heard a pastor preaching about being a parent to a nine year old. He told the parents to observe their children interests when they are at that age and help them develop. I called my mom and my grandma. ‘What did I like to do when I was nine?’ Both answers were exactly the same. ‘You sat on that big apple tree painted trees and skies and wrote stories’. Really? Is it possible that I was always an artist in my heart? How did I end up in banking then?
I miss my big apple tree. I miss the smell of its bark and the taste of its apples. I miss the days when I knew who I was. Smile. I finally know who I should be. A happy girl that can claim as high as a top of a big tree without any fear.

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