Saturday, March 15, 2008


Pine trees have always been his enemy.  As a child, these were the only trees in his yard and the benefit of being barefoot was lost.  The needles dug into his heels, and when he was responsible for raking them up, that was the point in his life when he truly learned how to use the expression “an exercise in futility.”

He’s only recently missed the trees when he went back to the house he grew up in, only to find them hacked down at their bases.

He’d always had dreams about setting them on fire or cutting them down himself, but seeing the stumps gave him little satisfaction.

They have always been in his consciousness and they’re always the first trees he thinks of when someone mentions the word “tree.” 

Yet the absence of pine trees within the yard he no longer plays in, years later, brings a tear to his eye. 

Why couldn’t they have just been oak?  



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