There is an old mango tree behind my house. He is older than me now. Back when I was little, this tree was a place where I played with my friends, took shelter, daydreamed or just leaned back to relax. I’m getting older every day, and he, the tree, is getting taller. he has been fruitful hundreds of times, benefiting me, the people closest to him, even for the caterpillars that live there. There are several times I saw the branches fall, the leaves dry and fall, but he still wants to bear fruit. Up to my age now, he is getting old and never bears fruit. But he still stood firm. At his current age, he is a witness to my life’s journey, giving benefits, keeping memories. As I stared at the tree, I thought a little, what have I given him? After all this time, what have I become now? what does he think of me now growing up too?
I am tired and sick of war. His glory is all moonshine.