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Arbo-real

Home is where my trees are.

I can see what that sounds like: my trees? And no, I am not claiming possession. I say ‘my trees’ like people now say ‘my person’ (in a certain TV show I watch a lot). Trees are my people, my friends, my symbols of belonging.

Looking back at all the places where I have lived, I remember trees very well – and that is saying something from someone whose memory is sometimes clouded by brain-fog.
I remember the Laburnum tree outside my childhood bedroom window, Goldregen in my native German, literally translated ‘golden ...

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