The tree I planted with my brother was an oak. It would be the closest yet to our house. The tradition of planting a tree every first of May had continued for thousands of years. This whole forest never existed back then, but was a giant wasteland. Our ancestors planted one tree every year since they settled here, leading up to now, when there are thousands of trees of different types lining the hillside.
We chose oak because we were remembering what we had said when we were younger, that our friendsip was stronger than the greatest oak. In a way, I think we were trying to remember the good times, and some how bring them back along with the intense love.
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