My Tree: Inside the Heartwood
Like a genealogical tree, I tried to map my attachment history and came back with a treasure chest, only that instead of gold it was filled with regrets, things I already knew; truths that are hard to digest.
On a twig, I saw a reason to trace back to larger boughs. And when I reached the boughs, it made me question if they really grew out of the same trunk I’ve known. So I slid down the bark and made it inside the heartwood. There, I saw the pattern. It all looked the same. An infinite circle that mirrored itself with every new coat.
Layer by layer, the stories looked the same. Some didn’t get to grow, some lasted longer, some quickly decayed. Identical. Even the layers that almost broke the pattern ended up replicating.
Was I at fault? There are times when I didn’t mean to water the tree, but somehow I did.
But how could I be at fault? I might be drawn to the same types, or is it they who are drawn to me and my good nature subconsciously lets them in?
I finally went down to the root to find out and see how this history, that started as tiny veins, spiraled out of control and continued an unwanted course.
I remembered the first seed that was planted. I remembered how poisonous some seeds can be. It might’ve decomposed my tree because through studying the branches, I can see why I avoid the pain by keeping them at arm’s length — even after leaves bloom and the layers grow again.
