Gemotions

The wind, which had been whipping about all morning, had finally died down. But the damage had been done. I walked over to the edge of my lawn, and looked at the fallen pine. The needles were scattered everywhere.

I felt a pang. I’d grown up with that tree. I remembered climbing it as a child, the rough bark under my hands. It was a witness to so many things. I imagined my childhood self, nestled in the branches, daydreaming.

I found myself wanting to touch it. I reached out and gently stroked the rough bark. I wanted to remember its presence. My fingers traced the grooves in the bark, and I closed my eyes.