I speak to the stumps of long-lost trees that I once loved. I tell them how much I miss their leaves, shade, and majesty.
Yes, I speak to these stumps aloud, and yes, I use the word “majesty.”
Not always, but sometimes.
There are three of these stumps in the world that I am currently speaking to regularly. One is on the golf course where I frequently play. Another can be found on the school playground where I work. The third is in a local playground.
Sometimes I sit on the stump if I have a moment to chat.
As I’ve said before, I’m basically a walking, talking nostalgia machine that suffers from a permanent existential crisis.
