From my branches hung pink streamers that danced with the passing wind. The youngest of the Spark children’s birthday had just gone by. The Sparks, before that, had been the Horns, and long before them, the Wrights… so many families had lived in this house. I have remained in this yard for many years, helping each family enjoy their time, offering shade, and giving them a place to lie down and read.

Usually, no family stayed longer than twenty years in that home; I watched generations come and go. I won’t lie—sometimes it feels a little lonely knowing that the people who once delighted in my broad leaves, and the children who played among my branches, will inevitably leave. But I find comfort in knowing I have been part of their best moments.