The Trees of my Childhood are Gone.

There's not a lot I like about this town these days, but as a kid, I didn't mind it. The proximity to the great outdoors is always a bonus when you're a rambunctious ADHD-riddled child with equally rambunctious friends. 

The forests are different now, though. They never stayed the same. A lot changes over the quarter of a century.

This stump was once a tree in my parents' back yard. It had wooden boards nailed to it forming a ladder that became increasingly dangerous over the years, and a tire swing once hung from a large branch. I would climb this tree all the time well into my teens. It grew too big, though. It was too close to some power lines, and it became a hazard. The city had to come and cut the tree down a few years ago. The yard feels a lot smaller now.

This is a park near my house. This patch of trees is only about 60 feet wide, maybe less, but a decade ago it was dense enough that the term "forest" still felt applicable. I would play in this forest with my siblings as a kid sometimes, or would often just walk the path that cuts through the middle. To the left, there's a spot where a tree once stood. There's no way now to know where it was if you'd never seen it. The spot is just dirt and various plants now. 

This log used to be the tree in question. There's still one final rung of a ladder once nailed to wood long ago. I have absolutely no idea who build the ladder or how long ago it was. As long as I could remember, most of the footholds were gone, with the rest far out of reach, no proper way to climb to the top.

Today I finally touched the "top" of this tree after it was far out of my reach for so long. I didn't know how to feel about it.

There's another forest at the edge of the playground of the elementary school I went to. It's probably only 20 feet from the edge of the field to the back fence. Kids weren't allowed in it, but we found ways, obviously. At winter, large snow forts would be constructed at the edge of the trees, with paths trailing into the trees hidden away from the teachers. When school wasn't in session, the forest would be explored less secretively, with no teachers around to tell us not to. There was a tiny murky pond in the forest that, in the first grade, I tried starting a rumour was inhabited with all sorts of terrible giant fish monsters despite how miniscule the body of water was. The "Swamp of Doom," as I so creatively called it, has since been filled in. No monsters could possibly live there now.

This clearing in the school forest was... well it was always a clearing of some scale, but it used to be a bit more secluded, and far smaller. There was a tree near the middle of this shot, with smaller trees circling around, forming a hidden little area. My best friend and I used to hang out in there when we were 12. It was a special secret spot him and I claimed as ours (though based on the number of chip bags and pop bottles that were occasionally already there, I imagine countless groups of kids had the same idea). I had my first kiss here, with him. As the forest thinned, the clearing is no longer even remotely tucked away. This clearing couldn't possibly be a place where a boy who hasn't yet realized he's not a boy could hide away and discoverer that kissing other boys isn't so bad.

This was once a massive field with a sparse forest along one side. There was a massive dirt trail leading downhill that my older sibling and I used to go biking down all the time as kids. We used to call the trail the Test Track for some unknown reason. Nothing was being tested there and it certainly wasn't much of a track. But it was the Test Track. Now it's all houses and apartment buildings and even what's probably the largest elementary school in the whole town. It was all torn down long enough ago that I only have vague impressions in my mind of what the Test Track used to look like. It's almost hard to imagine it was even there at all.

This paved path is another place we would bike. Years ago, the path was just through a forest. Much like the Test Track, there was a rapid period of houses being built here. One side is still forest, with the train tracks trailing just past the trees. The other side of the path is a slightly uncomfortable feeling view into a bunch of strangers' back yards, or even right into their house through big sliding glass doors. It manages to be both quieter and louder than it used to be at the same time. Less leaves rustling in the wind, or birds chirping, or unknown small animals sneaking through the bushes. It's a lot more empty sounding, aside from the sounds of trucks going by or people having conversations with the windows open or laughing in their back yards. Don't get me wrong, most of these new sounds certainly aren't bad. I really like hearing people obviously having fun. It's just different. It isn't what it once was.

Some of these changes are due to land development. Most of them are just due to time. The trees I grew up with are gone. They were there, they were a part of my childhood, and they were alive. These old, towering organisms enriched my life with no way to possibly be aware of it. Now they're dead. 

Everything changes. Nothing stays the same. Everything around you is different from how it was last week. By the time you notice it, though, what you once knew is gone.

We lose everything eventually. Even trees.

Take some time to focus on and appreciate what's here right now.