The Oak

To Fly | Luna Nash | Photography

The Oak by Hannah Pomeranzeva

Do you remember the ancient oak in the park? In the heart of the green amidst a sea of flowers and weeds, it stood wise. The gnarled branches reached out like welcoming arms, its bed of leaves opened up to you. Time had weathered its bark, and intricate lines began to develop on it, resembling  a weathered face. Generations had passed beneath its boughs, each leaving behind whispers of their existence.

Lovers had carved their initials into its trunk, a testament to their eternal bond, and  in the quiet moments of solitude, seekers had sought solace beneath its shade, finding peace in the gentle rustle of the wind. Like them, you climbed its sturdy limbs; the oak listened to the secrets you whispered to it, held  you when  you fell asleep within the leaves at the top.

 As you climbed down those branches for the last time,  adolescence consequently beckoning at you, the oak tree watched you leave it behind. 

It stood there, in that same place, a steadfast witness to your growth from a distance, and no matter how much time had passed, it did not forget you.  When you didn't get into that college, when your partner left you, when you got fired from your first job, the oak tree remained a constant from a far, a  silent companion.  The confusion of growing up is a sense of loneliness. It's an isolating hurdle of events and experiences tumbling toward you, blurring your vision.

 You find yourself back at a park. You're not sure how you got there but you did. You're staring up into an oak tree, it almost feels familiar, like something deep from your childhood. It stands there, the branches outstretched in a silent welcome, its leaves whispering back the secrets you once shared.

A wave of gratitude washes over you as you nestle against its sturdy trunk. Feeling its ancient pulse still beating steadily, you understand that the oak will always be there. For in the shelter of its branches, and amidst the whispers of the wind, you finally remember that this is not only a tree, but a constant presence, there for you when you're seemingly alone. You remember that it's always with you, connected to you, and  forever rooted in the soil of your soul.