In the Life of a Spanish Tree

My dear old friend Raleigh is living in Spain. She took a picture of a Spanish tree and now I want to be this tree that lives in Spain, changing with the Spanish seasons, watching and shading the Spanish people and guiding their lives with its silent beauty. In the life of a Spanish tree, I will learn to be silent and patient and most of all, gentle. I will call myself Yoana, as a tribute to my Spanish friend who is about to return to San Sebastian. I will weep when my other friends are torn down or are not strong enough to support themselves. I will laugh when others shed their leaves before me and look naked compared to my majestic coat of orange leaves. In the gloomy seasonal days, I will allow the gentle rainfall to hold onto their last moments on the tips of my branches, fearing that when they fall to the ground, they will lose their individual contribution to the world around. I will allow those pesky ants crawl around and feel comfortable and I will let eagles rest on my branches. Though there are no eagles in Spain that live on trees as such, those are the birds that I want to welcome- eagles, the only birds that fly to a storm, fly directly to it and then soar above it. I want to be a shelter to them so that when the storm comes I can watch them soaring above, guiding it with my eyes as a proud mother. Yes, that sounds lovely. I will be this tree and will live on.