November 23, 1884 a crossroad was visited on an unfamiliar path. With twigs crackling as a man walked through the forest sunlight struck gently across his long flimsy trench coat.  This path was unvisited for years.  The curios deeply moved man could hear the sound of kids playing on a wooden swing.  The crackling sound of the wood and rusty chains still echoed in the man’s ears.  Now rotten and decaying pieces of wet wood lay across the moist ground as weeds and several buried stones reflected a once favorite spot.   Shattered pieces of glass seem to lay hidden in the dirt, the man walked bye an old door where a small cabin use to stand.  The man remembered a little tiny silver metal bed on the corner of the small cabin where he once lived.  Now his mind overlaps images of fresh white sheets where not sits small portions of wood lying under rocks and weeds.  But something else seemed to grab the man’s attention as he walks on past the broken portions of wood now covered with muddy clay.  Out in the distance there seems to be a little pathway which revived special memories from the past.  The man moves on past the old cabin where he once lived as a child. Now anticipation seems to drive the man while sweat starts to flow across his face.   As he gets on the little trail his steps seems to get faster as he nears his destination.  The man then comes face to face with what seems to be for others an insignificant little tree.  The man slowly searches the tree hoping to find the memory he held so dear.  Finally he sees a little heart etched into the tree with a rusty razor blade.   Dated September 18, 1837 with these words I love you Mary Ann.   Slowly tears begin to flow down the man’s face as he cries out I miss you Mary Ann.  His fingers gently rub the inscriptions traced so long ago.  He can still see Mary Ann’s face saying I love you 2 as she gave him his first kiss under this insignificant little tree.  Tears flow hard as thinks back to 10 days ago as he said goodbye to his Mary Ann.  Where is your tree of memory located when your lost in the dirty dark pathways?  If you find it will you hold on to it and see yourself the way you use to be.  Many of us who don’t like what we’ve become may need to go back to our tree.  And see the way we use to smile and remember how we got where we are today.  For me my tree stands on a rugged hill, where blood stained the ground below.  And long rusty nails still sit at the place my saviour said it is finished and ended for humanity deaths final blow.