PROLOGUE:

Last night I dreamt I was back home again. It was Spring and the flowers were blooming abundantly on the sidewalk that bordered the stone flagged path. The sun was shining brightly, casting my shadows long before me. I looked around at the empty fields, hearing the loud silence only found in dreams. And I looked for you. Constantly. I looked for traces of you.

I followed the path; I knew where it led. I’ve walked it through many times before. The trees I used to climb as a child looked much the same here in my dreams. The oak tree did not age at all. It did not look like the burnt stump of what is left of it today. My hands touched the gnarled tree, heavy with thick leaves drooping the branches low; my fingers running around its rough-hewn bark reaching, searching until they traced a familiar gouged shape, barely seen, barely there anymore.

If I look closer I can still see the heart we placed there, carving it as it were for safekeeping; our initials with the heart set in between.

But our tree grows old. It grew old taking our hopes with it in the bits and pieces of its bark...shedding them like the fallen leaves, shredding them like unwanted memories.

And as I stood there mourning for this tree that stand tall and mighty in my dreams, I let my tears fall for the tree that would be no more.

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