A Symbol

As I look out my front window I see a large oak tree covered in moss. It reminds me of where I am, a place I love. It is a symbol. A symbol of good times had as a searcher, and then a maturing adult with what some would call experience, and now of a grown man raising a family.

A symbol of a place I have called home on several different occasions, even though it is not my hometown.

There is something about this tree, as similar as it is to the hundred others nearby. There is something about this place, whether it is considered similar to many others or unique in its own right. Just…something.

Swampy. Small. Vibrant.

A college town, by any definition of term.

Back to the tree. When I glance out front, whether on purpose or subconsciously, there it is. It strikes me every time and reminds me of all the different times I have had here. It gives a vision of times to be had here in the future. It makes me appreciative of the place. Home.

Some physical objects can do this for us. It is strange that this is not my object, it is a thing of nature, or at best belongs to my neighbor. Whatever it is, it impacts me on a daily basis. I never thought one individual tree could make me feel so many different things. But here we are.

I never thought I would attempt to write about a neighbor’s tree. But here we are. A symbol of something, no matter how strange that may be.

-Houston