Wonders

tree

A little girl stumbled upon me. She gazed up at me, filled with curiousity and wonder. Eyes taking in the luscious green of the leaves embellishing my branches, and the sturdiness of my stem. The child sat next to me. Back against me, and with awe ravelled in my beauty.

It was not the first instance a human had done this, but the lilt of her voice and the innocence of a young girl discovering the world, turned such mundane words into something of meaning. She made me a promise to come back every day, and for over a decade, she kept that promise.

As my leaves turned brown and yellow, turning bare of the source of my compliments, she came back. As the years stole her youth, she came back. And I was right there, every time. Her company became something of a routine. Most only passed by, perhaps stopping for a second to take me in, then moved on. I was but a mere tree among a forest of them. But this girl claimed me, read me stories, and taught me of this fragile thing called a heart.

It did not truly sink in how much I'd grown to care for the girl, grown used to the feeling of persistence, until one day, she never came back. My leaves, used to the tips of her fingers tracing them, seemed to curl around my branches, withering as if they'd flourished a heart dependant on her. My branches seemed to reach out, as if searching for her touch.

When you've grown used to someone, the hurt does not seep in until they're gone and you have to return to what once was. It is not until then that you realize how they affected you.

Suddenly, there's a void that cannot be filled without their presence, and you realized you'd grown attached.

She was free, but I was stuck. My very roots adapted to her.