My Tree

This is my favorite memory:

I was a lover of things. But I couldn’t see or agree how the winter could bring the darkest spring. Not this spring. And even though a fall current crept through this gloaming April eventide, the spring of 2007 was silvery and sweet. We walked through a cemetery. I gravitated towards a big tree tucked away in the far left corner. At its base was an octopus of roots twisting around my pre-cankled ankles. It seemed so big. I felt so small. This untaught thought captured the innocuous focus of my 13 year-old self. I wrapped my arms around this tree, my tree, and I could feel the charmed curse of comfort slowly collapsing. 

& just like that.

Things got in the way.