Do You Remember Me, Wise Oak Tree?

*This isn’t THE oak. And it might not actually be an oak at all. But you get the idea.

Oh, wise oak
Tell me what you’ve seen, what you’ve heard
From all the years and seasons of people moving in 
With their big trucks hitting your branches
The new sprinklers for the lawn
The raccoon hiding on the roof
The homeowners raking the leaves and pine cones
Just for you to shower them down again
You’ve seen the cheap wood fences curl and morph 
And the young bucks so sure they can straighten them back up

You’ve seen the new cars on the street 
Each finding their own unnamed spot
You’ve seen the new dogs walking past 
On rare and frequent occasions 

You’ve seen the signs and lock boxes
The homes that turned into houses
Abandoned, just waiting to be torn down
And made into something more beautiful
You must have seen the crews of men 
Building up that one house you shaded

Do you remember my car that used to park there, under your branches?
On a rare drive down that street, you probably see me slow down passing that purple house. 
Just to remember, to soak it in: 
“Wow. That used to be mine. That used to be my life. My home.” 

And oh how foreign home can become, sometimes. 
A former version of me sought safety there. Comfort. Love. 
Now, I keep driving. Away. 

Do you remember me, wise oak?
Rushing to pile everything I owned into that truck,
With those two friends you hadn’t seen before?
Do you remember that red SUV pulling in my driveway, 
The one that didn’t belong there? 

Do you remember that last day, 
Leaving the key behind? 
And the goodbye I said to the tree in the yard— 
The one from my mum I couldn’t take with me? 
And burying the past in the dirt,
Saying a prayer, and letting it go?

Do you remember me?
When I cried at the squirrel that died in the middle of the street? 
Do you remember the loud, drunk people wandering at night, 
And me peeking out of the blinds, calling the police? 

Remember? I’d clean the gutters, and climb the roof to hang the Christmas lights 
I would’ve kept them lit year round, if it was up to me. 
Do you remember how we never hung that gay flag? 
I wanted to. I didn’t want to live scared. 

Do you remember the garden and the seeds?
All the hopeless grass seeds 
It was me sowing
And another ripping them up

Don’t you remember, the dog who would sit and watch the snow
And the cat who would catch the snakes and mice and birds 
No matter what kind of bell he wore?

You hold those memories of that 23-year-old. 
Wow. A decade ago. 
I didn’t care about owning a house. 
But it was cool to think that small piece of the planet belonged to me. 
And that you were part of it. 

I guess I would have had to get you trimmed eventually
Branching over the house the way you do. 
Just in case, for those tornado warnings. 
I still get the weather alerts for your street. 
I don’t know why I haven’t changed it. 
But I know when a thunderstorm is heading your way. 
I guess I just think of you sometimes, oak. 
It can be scary, sometimes 
Not knowing what’s next.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll crack
Or if my roots are deep enough
I worry about the winds 
I wonder if I’ve done enough to prepare

What was it like when you were just a bud on this street
Seeing the houses get built up bigger than you? 
Did you ever wonder whether you’d make it? 
Whether they’d drown out all the sun?

Was there ever a storm you didn’t know if your roots could hold you through 
Did you ever hear a crack from your branches?
Did you ever get afraid of growing too tall? 
That someone might decide it was time to chop you down?
Did you ever wonder? 
Do you still wonder, ever? 

What would you say? 
How can I grow strong and tall, like you? 
And have the patience to bend through the seasons 
To know it’s all part of the plan
That nothing really lasts, anyway. 

Somehow, you’ve outstayed everyone on this street, wise oak 
And I guess there’s a calm in that
You’re the grandparent that’s not as worried about every little thing
You know it’ll all work out in the end
And there’s no sense in rushing, no need to worry
You always find your way to the sun

Oh oak, your beautiful canopy in the spring
The way your colors would change north to south in the Fall
You reminded me how beautiful it can be to let go 

I’ll miss you, wise oak
And I know under that grassy dirt
Rooted and linked up to all the rest
You’re everywhere
I can’t really escape you
So I hope you’ll come and shade me 
As I go somewhere new.