“Why do the trees point up,” my 2 year old son asked.

“Because they’re reaching for the sun,” I answered.

“Won’t they burn when they touch it,” my 10 year old son asked.

“They won’t ever touch it,” I answered.

“Then what’s the point of trying,” my 20 year old son asked.

“To get close to something bright and warm,” I answered.

“They all die anyway,” my 30 year old son said.

“Everything under the sun dies,” I answered.

“There are more important things to reach for,” my 40 year old son said.

“But none as bright and warm,” I answered.

“Does anything last forever,” my 50 year old son asked.

“The sun,” I answered.

“Then why are you leaving me,” my 60 year old son asked.

“Because I am the tree,” I answered one last time.

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