Writing on faith, technology, and being in 20xx

The night my daughter was born was a long one. While Maria got some much needed sleep, I paced the room with Lucy. I realized that there was nothing but downtown Montreal visible from our window and Lucy had known nothing but the hospital room in her short hours. So I decided to tell her about our friends, the trees.

Our Friends, The Trees

The world is big, much bigger than this room
Outside there’s the sky and green growing things
Among them are giants!
Our friends, the trees.

The trees start life small,
even smaller than you are. Tiny seeds, like you
They begin to grow in the dark, snug and safe
Then, like magic (and babies), trees grow
Shoots sprout, boughs spread,
and their leaves smile at the sun as they dance in the wind.

The trees are our friends, but they’re older than us.
Trees start small but grow tall.
They’re always kind and always our friends,
and though they only whisper their love,
our friends the trees never move.

Steady. Strong. Steadfast!

I can’t wait for you to meet one.

Lucy Maebh, a few weeks ago.

I feel it's important to note that I have indeed brought Lucy outside and introduced her to trees. There's even an ash tree outsider her bedroom window who I've affectionately nicknamed Sir Lawrence Ashby.


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