Our Macadamia Tree

A few years ago my sister and I returned to the tree. Easing over humps, trenches,
Potholes and rivers. Bashing through the trees surronding where our tree lives,
Our macadamia tree that has spent the same amount of time I have lived my life.
It has watched generations grow from little seeds, to nuts.

Climbing up here with my sister in the summer wind, all free.
Where soft northern winds blow gently, touching my face.

All is serene,
All is relaxed.

Live leaves rustle in the wind as they are being whipped into the air 
And the dead leaves crackle on the ground.

Small and fragile hands picking and cracking open one nut at a time.
Ready to be used to bake a pastry that is as sweet as toffee,
A Macedonian traditional dessert, Baklava!

Sitting on pale soft grass with my grandma and sister.
Leaning onto the Macadamia tree, reading stories and holding memories 
While munching on a piece of Baklava shaded from the ardent sun.

My childhood days came flashing back. Where did all the years go by. 
Now I'm older, thinking about what will come. I hope this single special tree
Who gives me joy will survive. I wish I could stay here forever.
Next visit I will come by. What a tree, what a time. Our Macadamia tree.