I sat on one of its U-shaped branches, strong and smoothed with age.
As I was sitting there he said, “Being a young tree is hard.”
There it was, its thin branches growing tentatively on the edge of the path, reaching up to get its footing.
It awakened many thoughts.
How I am a young tree.
We put down roots and build strong arms for holding things.
We seek a way to flourish and last.
For some reason, that tree made me feel better.
Like the tree,
Maybe this hard part just means I am on my way.