Gather around children. It’s time for the old tale of the Glow Tree. I said.
The brightest orange glow ever witnessed by anyone whizzed across the skies. I didn’t know it at that point. As others caught sight of the crash into the forest that night. Two or three sonic booms echo over the snow cover through the midnight blue skies. Everyone with the same idea as me arrives at the entrance. By the moment we stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. One of the strangest parts of this. No scent of wood burning. No embers flying through air even. It’s just in the places where it landed. As we make our way through the woods, the odd glow becoming blindingly brilliant, we scramble to put on sunglasses as if it’s daytime.
As we talk, I realize the forestry it’s not the only place it hit as they show off the now cooled rocks they’ve collected.
In the center, what looks like seeds in each piece of meteor, including the ones landing in the deep part of the snowy woods.
We agree to gather them up plant them that night. Unsure what will grow or if it will into the ground. The glow from it dissipates.
Another person creates a little fire melting some snow. That’s still on the land around the area. Cooling it quickly, we pour it over where we planted the seeds and return to our homes. Some of us unable to sleep after such excitement.
We drive back to the woodland next morning to check for any places where trees or grounds around maybe burnt from the flaming meteor debris.
Our mouths hanging open in disbelief at the sight of a very vibrant golden orange tree standing in the middle where we implanted those seeds last night. Now the whole town arrives to see what arrived last evening. A large tree as golden as the bars at Fort Knox. As the season changes at each interval, it does not. Remain the same as the day we found it. Month after month, year after year.
Our old town changed that night. We were fighting less with each other and far more giving.
Helping one another out as we care for it and begin a story time like today for our youngest as they are born and grow.
This goes on for five generations. Until one day the tree ceases to exist with the same bright orange glow that brought it to use. Taken it away.
We continue on with the story of it generation after generation. In this very spot. Where it once stood. We owe to you and to the old majestic tree. To keep our promise to always care for others and where once a tree stood at its tallest, touching the very tip of the skies.
My Labyrinth 