This post is dedicated to my Grandma Lila--my oak tree.
My Oak Tree
I have in my backyard an oak tree. I don’t know why, but it reminds me of my grandma.
I don’t know how long the oak tree has been here, but like my grandma, it’s been here a long time. It is tall and strong. Like my grandma. It stands in the background—quiet and unassuming—like my grandma. In fact, you would almost miss it, hidden amongst the many maples, evergreens and even other oak trees; but like my grandma, its straight-backed pride, grace and beauty draw you into its splendor.
My oak tree never sways with every wind, nor droops in summer’s heat, nor withers in winter’s grasp. It is steady—on guard, quietly watching and breathing in each moment.
My tree has seen itself regenerate over the seasons—like my grandma, who has seen her grandchildren have grandchildren.
Like my grandma, my oak tree gives silent praise to the God of the Universe. And sometimes, when the mood is right, and the Spirit moves, my oak tree sings—just like my grandma.
--Elaine Y. Pollard