Tree of Youth

I can’t say that everyone caught on to the charm of the tree. Those that did, maybe 6 or 7 of us, sought its magic. Conflict among us was minimal; it was generally transient and soon forgotten. Boys brought knives to school, not for protection but to compare with what a friend might own.   I suppose our conversations were like other kids our age mostly easy going. Perhaps for that reason, they were profound. Who liked who, an upcoming test, complaints about adults in our lives required discussion. Unhappy things sometimes – loss or longing. I can’t recall any tears but sometimes there were long pauses as we indulged our own thoughts. Mostly we laughed and giggled in abundance. It is a wonder that no one tumbled out. I can remember laughing so hard my stomach hurt. I like to think the tree listened to childish chatter lovingly as the leaves moved, the branch sway barely perceptible. It was a peaceful space, a treehouse without a platform or stairs. Whatever we shared was safe among the foliage. I reflect on our innocence.