The tree stood about 15 feet tall and only 6 feet wide at its thickest point near the middle. It was a pine tree that I had planted in my back yard 15 years earlier in my adolescence. I had helped dig the hole to put in the small sapling. If I remember right my father did most of the digging and heavy lifting. I did what I could as I was very little at the time. Although my dad did a good job making it seem like I was helping. The tall green majestic tree that stood before me today was nothing like the small weak sapling that we put in the ground all those years ago. When we planted it, the tree was no bigger than a foot high with only a couple branches separating off the main trunk no bigger than an inch around. Each branch covered with only a few needles poking off the sides like a prepubescent first armpit hair. Now standing proud and tall it represented to me a full grown adult maybe myself, I don’t know, maybe I was just getting delirious from the waves of tiredness that seemed to flow and crash over me like wave on a beach. The now full grown tree stood tall and proud, it’s now many branches reaching skyward from the trunk to absorb as much light as possible. So that it might ensure its longevity in life as time passes. The green needles stood tall on the tree gripping it with all of their force. Only a few brown pine needles lay on the ground, a sign that maybe life had not always been so easy, that the tree had to shed weight and unnecessary baggage to survive. Never the less it stood as healthy as ever, reaching for the sky in an ever lasting effort to grow. The wide base of the tree sat firmly in the ground no doubt with a vast root system holding it in place should a wind come and attempt to knock it down. Moving up the trunk revealed the almost battle scarred back, cuts, and scrapes from where I had pulled off pieces of bark at a young age. Broken off branch stubs where I had either snapped them off as I tried to find my way up the tree at a younger age, or had been cut down by others. As my eyes made their way further up the tree to higher branches some cut short to give the tree a nicer shape. A thought came to me than, I realized that long after I would be dead this tree would still stand. My children could look at this tree and see me, themselves or anyone else. Maybe they would just see a tree. The top of the tree seemed to look almost like a hand reaching for the sky always wanting more, reaching for something new grasping upwards. The way the sun hit the right side of the tree illuminating the green to a wonderful hue that was extremely pleasant to the eyes looked almost magical. The dark side gave off a perfect contrast to the bright green front, almost as if it was giving the tree two different selves, two different identities. I sat in my seat looking at the tree I had planted all those years ago with dad wishing for all those years back, but at the same time happy that I had ever had a memory like that to look back on.
See my full tree painting Here.