The Old Tree

by Tom Balistrieri, Director - Counseling and Student Development

He remembered the first time he sat under the tree. He was a freshman and had no friends. Feeling alone, the tree seemed a comforting place to sit and share problems with the universe. A senior now, in his last term, he found himself spending more and more time sitting against the trunk of the old tree. The tree had become a friend. He had grown to love these brief times with the tree, feeling the rough fissures pressing against his back, the wind whistling through the branches, the smell of the new green buds. His eyelids grew heavy, and sleep fell over him as the warm wind swirled around his face. In the throes of sleep he asked questions of his friend. How many hours had they spent together since his freshman year? How many conversations had been shared with friends and lovers? How many tears? How much laughter? How many great thoughts?

"Many great thoughts, my friend."

The young man sat up, startled by the voice that had answered his silent question. Something or someone was pressing against his left arm. Quickly turning his head, he saw a most disconcerting sight. There next to him, sitting on the carpet of grass leaning against the old tree, was an old man. Not just any old man, but an old man whose beard and hair were covered in leaves. No more than that. His beard and hair were leaves. And he had a bird's nest on his shoulder and the air around him smelled of sunshine. The young man shook his head, "Sunshine doesn't smell and old men don't have green skin."

"Don't be afraid, my friend. I won't stay long. I've come to thank you for your friendship and to wish you well. I will miss you too." The young man, still too numb to speak, just stared at the gentle, smiling face of the old man. "No need to speak. Though I don't move, my life is rich because of the many people like you who through the years have come and shared their lives, hopes, woes, and dreams with me. And I bless you all equally with shade, wonderful smells, a trunk to lean against, and the wind to talk to. It doesn't matter to me who you are or what you believe. All are my relatives. I'll always be here for you. All you must do is think of me and I will be with you. But please come back, visit, sit under my branches and lean against me. I need affection and have great affection to share."

Under an old tree a young man stirred, woke from a peaceful nap. He looked around, alone, yet not feeling quite alone. Was it a dream? It didn't seem to matter. With great affection he placed his hand on the trunk of the old tree and whispered, "Thank you, I will not forget you. I will be back to visit." The young man rose and returned to the business of being a senior.

Walking down the sidewalk dragged a young girl, tears rolling down her face. Her freshman year had been hard enough and now her boyfriend had just dumped her for another woman. She felt so alone. She looked up and for a moment thought she saw the outspread arms of someone ready to hug her. She blinked back a tear and saw it was only the branches of an old tree. But she was weary and decided to sit down and lean against the rough fissures. She began to share her woes....