If Trees Could Talk

My father passed away when I was 9 years old. It was very strange, as none of my peers had lost a parent. His death was hard on all of us, and we moved to another town 8 months later.

The move took me away from the only friends I had ever known. We were a group of 16 that had been together since we were mid-term Kindergarten students. I didn't see most of them any more, but have reconnected with two recently.

Today, I find myself standing in the cemetery where my parents and sister now reside. My mom used to remember where my dad was buried by these Red Bud trees. There are only 4 of them today, but 6 were present when I was a child.

Once mere bushes, they now are aging trees, twisted and turned by the wind blowing across the mountain. Stately Maples tower over them, affording some protection from the severe weather of Upstate New York.

I wonder what these trees have experienced over the years? I'm sure they would have many tales to tell. Who's been to visit? Did they cry? Why do the deer always eat my flowers? Do spirits ever dance in the dark?

If trees could talk, I'd listen.