I sit in the car counting the seconds it takes for a tree to appear and leave out of sight. Two seconds at 40 miles per hour. Three seconds at 37. I inspect the leaves watching how different each one appears saying it was all from the same tree. Each tree was a family. The trunk as its mother giving the leaves a place to stay and keeping them safe from blowing away. Every tree was a family tree.

Family...

I begin to think about my brother Andrew. Eighteen years old but he seemed to be 40 years full of laughter. Hes been my support from day one and will be until the last day whether it is day 10456, 20283, or the best way I like to think of it, eternity.

I am so proud of him. The challenges he’s overcome, the challenges he faces, the challenges in the future, I know can’t stop him.

The smile on his face lets me know that he is not only my brother but my friend. My Supporter. My Rock.
He’s my brother and I couldn’t be prouder.


I then think about my sister. Two years older than me but wiser than anything I would ever dream to become. We have those moments of bickering and shouts but it always end with us reuniting and becoming the strong sisters we were meant to be together. We sometimes say she isn’t the brightest and sharpest pencil in the box. But we are wrong. She is the brightest in bringing smiles to our faces and light into our family when all is dark. She tells me to believe I shouldn’t lessen myself for the person next to me. That if appropriate, I be the girl I am meant to be.

When all is bad, she is strong. Sometimes not for herself but for her little sister. She’s my sister and I couldn’t be prouder.

I don’t have much to say about my mom because I know the only thing to help in this situation is my actions.

What I do, how I do it, and my intentions is all that really matters to her.
But if I do choose to write, these pages would never end. Like a line, it would go on forever of how amazing and strong she is.

It would never fit on a Hallmark card no matter the size.

She is my mom, and I couldn’t be prouder.

And Finally I think to my dad.
How the leaves on his tree were browning, and some fell to the isolated ground, sometimes picked up with the wind. However, there are dents all over his trunk.

But then his tree falls and the trunk is now stuck in the road. Heavy to lift and sometimes adding an obstacle for others to drive around.

But then you get to feel sorry for that tree. Why did he have to be the one that fell?

But then you realize it’s not because of you. It was because he let the pressure of force filled winds bring him down.
Like he didn’t want the surrounding trees willing to support him help.
He wanted to explore and feel what it was like to live on the different side.

A different lifestyle.

Away from my tree.
My sister’s tree.
My brother’s tree.

And my mom.

A tree that he’d been tied to with vines and leaves for over 20 years.

But he let go.

And now it’s the trees turn to move on.