Crafted by @PaperField

The Lover Under the Leaves
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_{The trees you grew up with haven’t forgotten you. Nor have I.}}

I find myself thinking about that a lot. When I was little, my friends and I loved playing beneath a towering tree, the big trees were our whole world. We would sit close together, knees brushing, laughter spilling out louder than we could contain. I can still feel the breeze messing up my hair until I’d accidentally nap right there in the dirt. I remember the first time I learned to make something out of fallen branches, like little toy swords, makeshift cars, even a kind of “throne” built from sturdier sticks.Then there was my first flower crown. It was made of those tiny and fuzzy wild blossoms that make your skin itch like crazy, but we were so stubborn. We refused to quit until we were both wearing our itchy yet beautiful masterpieces.To me, that is exactly how love works.The first time a friend made me a flower crown and peeled fruit for me under that tree, I must have been four or five. I was whining, kicking my legs, the dull rumble of hunger curling deep in my stomach, which had annoyed me at that time. We were far from anywhere familiar, and we brought nothing to eat with us.To comfort me, one of my friends showed me how to weave those flowers and peeled an orange from a tree that I hadn’t even noticed was nearby. You see, neither a flower crown nor an orange is something you can enjoy absent-mindedly. They both require your hands, your attention, your patience, your love! You have to intentionally pluck the bloom; you have to purposefully break the skin of the fruit. Your thumb presses just hard enough to start the peel, while your fingers deftly weave the stems together even when it stings or itches if you’re careless. You can’t pretend you aren’t there. You can’t pretend you aren’t opening something up.Love behaves the same way.Once you let it in, it leaves a mark. It clings to your skin and it sticks to your clothes like the dust from a long day of play. It stays on the bark of the trees where you’ve carved the names of those you adore. You carry it with you, whether you mean to or not. That is how I understand love. I will remember you, carve your name into my heart, and learn you deeply. I will love you like a tree that never forgets you, even as you grow to outlive its oldest branches.In the morning, I’ll greet you like sunlight filtering through the leaves. I’ll send morning messages like, “Good morning! ☀️ I slept really well last night, hehehe. How about you? Got any plans for today?” Or maybe just a blurry and half-asleep text: “G’mornin... jus’ woke up and I missyuo alresdy.”By midday, I’d usually be tinkering with handmade pinwheels or sharpening twigs into swords—at least, that’s what I did as a kid. Now, I’m usually busy with work, but don't think for a second my attention wavers! I’ll slip in a message to say I miss you, or send a video of foxes jumping playfully in the woods and proudly declare, "Look, that's us."And as evening fades into night, I’ll welcome us both home with warm hugs and soft kisses. Tell me, do we need coffee, tea, or warm milk to go with our blanket? We can trade stories of how our days went, or you can tell me all about your favorite movie character’s upcoming sequel. We’ll plan our next date, and I’ll kiss every pretty mark on your face while whispering sweet things, or we can just laugh together about how flustered I get when you compliment my windswept hair, I’ll let you be the professional ragebaiter that you are, or we can switch anytime! I’m just good at both.I want to do it all, over and over again. I want to watch your life grow and be a part of the scenery. I am just like those trees… only I can talk back. Heh.For, evermore. Forevermore.