“The Memory Tree”

In the heart of a small village was an old tree, known as a tree of memory. Its branches stretched and its roots passed deeply, holding the murmur of past generations. Village residents believed that if someone put their hands on the bark and share his memory, the tree would hold it forever. And on quiet days, you can hear these echoes of memories when the wind tricks the leaves. A young boy named Elias arrived in the village with his grandmother, leaving behind everything that he once knew. He felt inappropriate, watching how other children play while he was sitting alone under a tree. One evening, his grandmother joined him and carefully put his hand on a rough bark of a tree. "Do you want to share my memory with her?" She asked. "Does it really listen?" Asked Elias.

She nodded. "Yes, I remember that."

Partially, Elias pushed her hand with the bark. "I miss the old house," he whispered. "The way the morning light filled my room, the sound of the river outside, the voice of my father."

There was still air, but the sweet breeze stirred up the leaves. Elias felt something touched him, as if the weight of his desires softened.

As time passed, Elias returned to the tree often, whispering stories of his father and the life he had left behind. Slowly, he found himself opening up to the other children, sharing laughter and new memories.

Years later, as an adult, Elias brought his young daughter to the tree. Encouraging her, he said, “Go on, share a memory.”

She pressed her tiny hand against the bark and whispered with a smile, “I love my papa.”

The leaves rustled, and for a fleeting moment, Elias thought he heard a familiar voice in the wind—his father’s, carried through time, whispering back. The memory tree has remained firm, preserving the past, connecting the present and reminding all those who came there only no memory, and without love, has ever been really lost.

He closed his eyes and listened to the rustling as Elias stood under the tree of memory, holding her daughter's tiny hand. The sound was familiar and comforting - like a gentle whisper from the past, reminded him that love never disappears, only transforms. His daughter laughed, unaware of the weight of the moment, she ran away to chase after the fireflies. Elias looked at her, and his heart was full. Once he came to this tree, burdened with a loss, but now, standing under his ancient branches, he realized something deep.

The memories were not just for storage; They had to share, form new stories in order to overcome the past and future. With a smile he placed his hand on the bark one last time and whispered "Thank you."

The wind stirred again, carrying the words and having lunch in the endless whispers of whispering to the trees. And while the sun fell under the horizon, the tree of memory stood, waiting to embrace the past, embrace the present, and welcome memories.