There's this tree that has strong deep roots. The older the tree gets, the deeper the roots get. They become strong. Big. Perfect for any foundation. Of course there's a trunk that grows up from these roots. It's been weathered, beaten, abused, asked for forgiveness, abused a little more, taken for granted. We always just assume this trunk, like the roots, will continue to grow as long as we never hurt it too much. It will grow wide, and it will grow tall. There are limbs that grow from it. Some grow up, some grow down, and some grow out. They consist of buds and leaves, and sometimes nothing at all. Just mini limbs from the limbs. And mini limbs from those mini limbs. We depend on this tree to make us feel safe. To protect us. To shade us. We get excited when the limbs go from death to color and shapes. We get overwhelmed when the sun causes them to change into different colors and we kick them when they fall to the ground. Some of us may even take pictures of them. But all of us, even if just a little bit of each of us, get sad when we see it bare again.
Sometimes when we leave the tree we realize how much we miss it. How it's strength made us feel so protected. How the beauty, or the emptiness, gave us feelings. How proud we are of how far it's come out of the earth. How simple things like rain, sunshine, and dirt have made it become who it is today. How although there may be tons of them, there's only one.
There's only one of us.
Then one day this tree will reach it's limbs a few thousand miles away and ask for you to come home. It'll say "Hey, look how strong I am. Look how much I miss you. Look how I'm not there. Look how comfortable you were when you were with me. Sure, you've learned a lot about yourself, but it's time. It's time to grow, and to move on, and to explore. And to get rid of your unhappiness."
It's time for this tree to grow a couple more branches, appreciate my strong roots a little more, share what I've learned, about life and about myself. To reach my limbs around people who love me. Who love my leaves. Who don't care when I'm leaf-less.
