street at me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Finally, he accepted the plate.
“Thank you,” he said.
It was not an apology.
We did not become friends.
But Ryan never complained about the tree again. He kept his distance, respected the fence and left my property alone.
That was enough.
Dean’s tree still reminds me of his patience, his humour and his belief that good things can continue growing after terrible loss.
But now it reminds me of something else.
When Ryan stripped the tree bare, I thought
