I envied the children in Paxton Close they had the tree. It stood outside Mark and Richard’s. In the summer we would sit underneath it, when I ran away, it was my destination. I could still see my bedroom window.
Calming, gnarled old tree missed the field in which it used to stand, surrounded by wild grass instead of muddy children, yet it watched over us as we grew up.
Decades later, all the families have been replaced. I drive past sometimes and thank it for the memories. It stands firm ready to nurture the next generation of muddy children.