Today, my magnolia tree lifted my spirits by being messy—pink petals scattered across the yard.

My husband saw work.

I saw wonder.

A reminder that life doesn’t have to be tidy to be meaningful.

That shedding can be sacred.

We build homes and plant roots near ancient trees,

yet we forget we are only guests here.

We take ownership without stewardship,

claiming the land but not the responsibility.

Sometimes, I dream of being like that tree—

still and strong,

offering shade and shelter,

cleansing the air with each quiet breath.

I want roots that run deep,

and leaves that know how to let go.

I dream of watching my children grow under my branches,

laughing in the dappled sunlight,

safe in the rhythm of seasons I learned to survive.

Let me be like the magnolia tree…