Walking in Greenwich Village last evening I looked up and saw a beautiful tree, its graceful old branches teasing the landscape and catching the light. My cousin Anita and I were strolling the downtown streets, sharing our love for this granite rock and chatting about our immigrant ancestors who settled in downtown Manhattan along with the masses.
I thought about that tree and its age and how it must have been growing when our family steamed past Lady Liberty. And here it was, glorious, flaunting the charms of limbs and leaves against the darkening sky. That tree belonged to our great grandmother, our grandmother, our mothers and now it belonged to us. Time stood still in Greenwich Village last night. And what a night it was.
I thought about that tree and its age and how it must have been growing when our family steamed past Lady Liberty. And here it was, glorious, flaunting the charms of limbs and leaves against the darkening sky. That tree belonged to our great grandmother, our grandmother, our mothers and now it belonged to us. Time stood still in Greenwich Village last night. And what a night it was.