The Young Trees. grow up.

The Young Trees. grow up.
(to emily and allison)

Yesterday. Opposite us, in the coffee shop - or should I say on the
other side of the window - swayed a few young trees, branches reaching
toward the art show in the sky and the daily sights that surround the
3600 block of Main Street Vancouver - in other words, thier
unavoidable future.

Signs hung around the branches asking us to refrain from tying our
dogs to them or leaning our bikes against them. To protect the young
trees in thier infancy.

I started to gaze metaphorically at them as if they should signify the
lives we're meant to lead. My mind wandered from strangers faces to
the two familliar faces across from me. And i wondered (just briefly)
what the signs around our necks would say if something beyond us could
warn others of ways to protect us - in these early stages.

We're questioning where we intend to end up and how we plan to get
there. And I want it to be so much easier for us like the direction of
the trees - no one really questions if its possible - they just grow up.
And we try to protect them from the things they cannot control.

As we do, we change - our feet aren't grounded per say, but to the
earth as it moves beneath us and holds us from floating away.
Essentially, we are given freedom to run towards tangible dreams and
catch them - but as swiftly as we do, we pass on and those young trees
live on.

Someday they will hold bikes and dogs - the young trees will be old
trees - and we will all be gone.

And we will look upon the world and see that all this time our futures
were as sure to become our dreams, as what seems - the inevitable
growing of the trees.