This is the magnolia tree in front of the house I grew up in. I don’t know the last time I was able to see it in bloom. But I happened to be there. Lucky enough to see it blossom early.
This was not my climbing tree. That was cut down long ago. That tree, technically, resided on our neighbor’s property because, in suburbia, we must draw those lines, make the proper distinctions. One day I came home from school and it was gone. Maybe they didn’t like me dangling from its branches. I wonder.
But this tree is still there. The only magnolia tree on the street. The most beautiful. I think I’ll call it mine.