Remembering Old Friends

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While living in Latvia, all the majestic oak trees all around were my friends. I cannot describe why I felt that way, but it was as if I gathered strength from them, and they whispered to me. Starting with Henry the giant, tall, oak tree in the back of my garden. The first oak tree we came upon walking up our street I named Bernhard. After that, we reached the block that took us to the supermarket, and there was Alfonse, and across the street opposite the supermarket was Friedrich. I always wondered why I thought these oaks had whispered their names to me and why they were all German. Then I read online that most of the oaks in Riga, Latvia, were planted during the time when Germans were there, and I realized I had somehow really communicated with these oak trees. I miss them all as much as you can miss an oak tree. The beautiful oak in its autumn colors is Bernhard.