I Saw A Mimosa Tree Today

I saw a Mimosa tree on the road from Oklahoma City today. It was similar to the one I enjoyed playing in as a boy. It was outside my window in the front yard of the house I grew up in. It was the only tree of its kind anywhere near our neighborhood. To this day, it is rare for me to see one.

My Mimosa tree had a short and stout trunk, with several large branches spreading up and away from the trunk. It was a perfect tree for young boys (and the occasional girl) to climb and play in. Sometimes we would just sit in the branches and talk about the things that were important to youngsters at the time: the latest comic book, this week's episode of Batman, or, in our more mature moments, the big brother who was called off to a war thousands of miles away that we didn't really understand.

In the spring and summer my tree bloomed the most beautiful flower. A fluffy red and white plumage that one could see from blocks away. But I wasn't interested in that. I was more interested in the pods. They were long and thin, rounded on one end and pointed at the other. To my mind, they perfectly resembled what a starship would look like. I would gather these pods and have pretend space battles, crashing them into each other just like I'd seen in the movies.

As I grew older, I lost interest in my Mimosa tree. It became nothing more than decorative, a biological ornament for the yard. An obstacle to be mowed around in the summer.

Shortly after I left for college, my Mimosa tree died. It was cut down, and for years the only reminder was a stump, flush against the ground. Eventually the stump was covered over by grass, and there were no physical reminders of my tree.

When I think of that tree, I wonder if it died from loneliness. For years it had enjoyed the limelight of being front and center in many childhood hours. Then we went away. Did my tree wait around for more children to come? Did it give up when they didn't?

One of the sadder aspects of being human is that we never realize what we have until it's gone. Our house, which I believed would always be there for me, is now owned by a stranger. My tree is gone. That was a beautiful tree. I wish I had appreciated it more while I had it.