Week 12: There is much to that tree — and me

By Lily Harris
Charlotte Central School, Grade 6

On a warm, sunny day in July, 1998, we stood in a circle in my huge back yard and planted my tree. My family and our very close friends were gathered to celebrate my adoption. The tree we planted is a red maple.

I have noticed over the years that my tree is a lot like me.

The tree was a sapling and so was I. We were both new to the earth, and we were establishing our young roots. The tree’s roots were planted in the ground and my roots were planted in my family. Both of us will grow up here forever — the tree, in our back yard, and me, in the love of my family.

My tree looks a lot like me. It changes the way it looks through the seasons; so do I. In the autumn, my tree’s leaves turn from tropical green to fiery red. They never seem to go through an ugly, boring, brownish stage. I’m kind of like that, too.
In the summertime, many other people’s skin gets blistered and peely or freckly or burnt. But my skin just kind of deepens into a truffle milk chocolate, and at the same time, my hair shines like a silvery star. Of course, the leaves fall off of my tree in the fall, and my skin grows paler in the wintertime. We both have our bright seasons.

My tree is a very sturdy maple, and I am very strong as well, inside and out. When it’s windy, my tree does not sway. It stays still, just like me. When some of my friends want me to do something I don’t want to do, I don’t sway; I stand my ground. I’m determined and not easily persuaded.

I learned that red maple trees can thrive in any type of soil, and that’s sort of like me also. I can go anywhere I want and belong quickly. I can continue to grow and be strong and not change the core of who I am, even when I’m in a muddy situation.

It’s been eight years since my tree and I were planted. We both are now fully rooted, and we have a lot in common.