Perspective

Perspective. This morning I woke up believing, philosophically of course, that I was this little tree. My run down Riverside changed that.
On the trail there is a bench, quite a few actually, but a bench with a tree behind it and a man sitting on it around eighty or so. At first, I thought, "how sweet, nice day, great idea."
But as I kept running I wondered if he knew that he was toward the end of his life and was he happy with all the decisions he made while he was in his prime. Or does he still think he may have another twenty to go and is taking a minute to refuel before going back to work at some company he started when he was twenty? Who knows.
What if I am at the end of my life and don't know it? What if I am the tree behind this little tree now? Have I watered Eden enough that she is now this little tree, budding, dreaming? Lord knows at her age, I was that way.
Does almost thirty-six qualify you to be the bigger tree? Or is it pushing to reveal your passions and not being afraid that makes you the bigger tree?
Only you can answer that.
For me, I woke up the little tree and am going to bed tonight the larger one. When the metamorphosis occurred, I will never know, but I saw the change today.