This is the story about my two trees. I once had a tree. Now I have two. One is with me in my heart, in my mind. The other is in the forest.
Once upon a time, I got a seed. I found a forest next to my tree. I planted the seed. I took care of the seed. The seed was my friend.
Then, the seed grew. And grew. Suddenly, it was an 8-foot tall giant. I would visit it every day. I loved my tree.
One day a storm swept across all of Canada. “Severe lightning,” I heard the TV say. Mom, Dad, Joel, and I scampered into a cellar. We heard a bang of thunder. We stayed safe.
When I went out to go find my tree, I just found a stump. What happened to my tree? I saw four strong men lifting trees into a truck. “What are you doing?” I called. One man turned. “Get out of here. It’s not safe. People need homes from these trees. They were old,” he said.
Anger boiled through me. I ran home. My parents were very kind. They got me a diary, ice cream and lots of hugs. But after a while, it was like they forgot about my tree.
I missed my tree. I missed its bark smell. I missed the comfort it gave me.
Some days I was mad. I punched my pillow. I screamed. Other days, I wanted to just be left alone. My friends would come, but I stayed inside. Other days, I wanted someone to blame. I faked that I was okay somedays. But I knew I wasn’t.
Some days I was mad that I ever loved the tree. I really just didn’t want to feel the pain.
I stayed in the forest a lot. I sat with my stump. I read to it. I planted flowers around it. In spring they would bloom. But one day, I saw someone remove the stump. A seed fell from his hand. He smiled at me, then walked away.
When spring rolled around, the seed had sprouted. So had the flowers. I turned away. I didn’t want the tree to replace my tree.
But with time, I returned. I realized that if this tree would die too, why not love it while it was alive?
I thought it would be pretty easy. It was hard. I couldn’t look at it without thinking of my old tree. I got mad at it some days. But then I talked to it. It listened. I watered it. It politely said no. I steadied it. It thanked me.
I realized that you don’t have to give up on one tree just because you find another. In fact, I find myself talk to my old tree a lot. It is nestled in my heart, engraved in my memory. I whisper its name at home.
My two trees are always with me. My two trees are a part of me. Who knows? Maybe someday I will have three.