The Magnolia Tree

the magnolia tree doesn't bloom anymore; when i was younger it would blossom beautiful white flowers that filled the entire back yard with the most glorious smell. when the scent reached your nose you knew it was alright to go play outside, no matter how many bad things were happening outside of our bedroom windows the magnolia tree and the blossoms it yielded made everything okay. why does everything good come to pass? like the magnolia tree or the last piece of left over birthday cake that made it feel like it was still your birthday? why must all good things come to pass while horrible things like war, and famine and devastating natural disasters never go away? why do things like sleepovers and tea parties stop being fun when you turn nine, but mid terms and chemistry labs never stop being thrust upon us? it seems the more i grow the shorter the magnolia tree gets and the smaller the flowers are. the magnolia tree used to be so grand that all of the outdoor life stayed near to it. the birds built nests in it, the squirrels hid their nuts there, and the ants built their hill at the bottom of the trunk making it impossible for me to climb. it's as if the nature surrounding it knew there was something special about this tree and did everything it could to protect it from the destroying hands of the people that constructed monstrosities around it. one year when the hurricanes came it blew our big red barn over on top of the tree covering it's branches and leaves. i thought the tree would never see the light of day again. but low and behold, when the spring came, one branch of the tree had grown through the shattered remains of grandpa's old barn, giving the world one last beautiful white flower, the biggest one i had ever seen. it's seems to me that the magnolia tree was saying all good things come to pass but strength is what keeps them alive long enough to make the fight seem worthwhile. we'll all die some day but we have be strong to make a difference. I'm not saying that a barn will fall on you or anything weird like that, but hurricanes will come and ruin something beautiful, and "surviving the storm" and moving on, as cliche as it sounds, is what will insure satisfaction in the end. the magnolia tree doesn't bloom anymore, it was crushed by a barn that my grandfather built. and just as my grandfather came to pass so did the tree. but the tree, in it's death, taught me to be strong in times of sorrow, and that is even sweeter than the magnolia blossoms that gave me a sense of security so many springs ago.