when we were in high school, the three of us trumped down to the meadow from our cabin's porch with nothing but a can opener. our dad wouldn't let us use a pocket knife in fear we would slice our own fingers off so we made due with the ole rusty thing. it took way longer than it should have, and we carved one by one watching in awe as the bark peeled away from the tree and exposed our initials.
there's something so simple and rewarding about "making your mark" in the world. even if it's just an old tree in a meadow somewhere that few people go to see. it matters to us, and it means something to us. our love is inscribed on one of our favorite trees in one of our favorite places in the entire world. our sisterhood is forever.
No comments
Post a Comment