I wasn't Resting. I was in retreat.
I stood at the kitchen sink in my high-rise apartment, staring out at the city skyline. And I found myself thinking about the old oak tree.
I stood at the kitchen sink in my high-rise apartment, staring out at the city skyline.
And I found myself thinking about the old oak tree.
The one I used to watch from my kitchen window in my previous home—the one that watched over birthday parties, late-night talks on the porch, quiet moments with coffee in the morning.
That tree was steady. …