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I drove past the old farmhouse I grew up in this week. This tree. This tree, I loved.

It’s grown. So tall. I used to be able to reach the lowest branch and lay myself across it and use my five years worth of weight to bounce it up and down, up and down.

Little did I know how much that tree was teaching me about life.

An old tree is like an old friend—strong and steady, ever-changing.

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