Proud like an old tree | Inquirer Opinion
Young Blood

Proud like an old tree

/ 05:01 AM October 06, 2019

As I open the door to my unit, I take off my shoes, lay down my bag on top of my sister’s luggage and throw myself on the bed, intending to rest my tired body and drained mind. Trying to sleep, I scroll on Facebook (not a good idea, right?) and stop at this photo taken by my now favorite photographer mountaineer.

The darkness outside my window and the sound of siren and car horns on the nearby street are lulling me to sleep. But I cannot. I cannot turn off my phone and ignore this beauty.

There, in the center of lush green hills, stands an old tree. As I stare at it longer, I feel like it’s pulling me in. Funny how I feel like drowning but also shouting for joy. Thoughts start rushing through my mind, word by word, letter by letter. I just can’t hush them and go back to finding sleep.

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And so I get up, grab my pen and paper, and start giving life to words itching to be written down. Look at those branches, now bare due to old age but defiantly fanned out wide, as if saying never be afraid to spread your branches and break free. Never give up, continue growing, and keep on fighting.

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With the scorching sun and hammering rain as its best friends, birds perching on its branches as visitors, and the soil serving as base and providing nutrients, the tree stands magnificently. Surrounded by radiant light and captivating greenery, it exudes resiliency and positivity.

How I wish I could grow old just like this tree — withstanding every storm but also anticipating the comfort and warmth each sunrise brings, staying grounded and trusting the strength of its roots, celebrating its own natural beauty.

How I wish this tree will be kept hidden from greedy human beings, and will only be found by warm-hearted souls who will stand in awe of it. How I wish it will continue to serve as a guide and a sight to behold for generations to come. Let it live its glory and, in time, have its meaningful death.

Now, I can finally sleep, looking forward to that day when I can stand proud like this tree.

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Maloreen Luzano, 27, is a senior analyst in an accounting firm in Pasig.

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