I believe that a lonely tree on top of a ledge at the end of a trail can tell a story. A silent narrative of a New England existence;
The first time I saw the tree it was budding with new life and I was in awe of its surroundings. I followed my boyfriend off the trial and trekked up a steep slope to arrive at this spot. An elevated ledge with a great view of the Berkshire Hills, it was peaceful and relaxing. I would sit up on the ledge for hours, breathing in the woodland smell that was in the air and listening to nature stir all around us. This spot was his, and he made it ours.
The next time I sat beneath the tree it was full of life and I was getting to know new friends. This spot was to amazing to keep it to ourselves. When we first arrived we all sat silent taking in the surroundings, than when the conversation started it never ended. You could hear the echo of laughter roll over the hills. This spot was ours, and we made it theirs.
The third time I climbed the slope the tree was bright with colors and we were saying farewell to family, who by the end of the week would be permanent west coasters. The light in the afternoon created a brilliant glow on the hills. The mood was bitter sweet, with flashes of cameras going off to record the memory. This spot is every ones in our life.
The last time I came to look out at the hills the tree was covered in snow and I was grieving from the loss of a friend. The stillness of the ledge and the comfort of the familiar gave me peace. The light created a reflection of glistening hues off the snowy ground. This spot is life.
The tree on top of a ledge at the end of a trail I call a narrator. This tree can tell stories of my life with each glance in its direction. I believe this tree stands in an ever changing world a part of an ever changing life. Seasons change as life changes, old memories stay the same and new memories are yet to come.
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