I just got back from visiting my grandmother Mamita América. She lives in Alta Verapaz, which is probably the most beautiful Guatemalan region.

Her house has a very beautiful garden with a huge old tree she planted there with my grandfather over 50 years ago. That tree has been there ever since I can remember, always bright green and gorgeous. Well... not anymore.

After my grandfather Papito Carlos passed away last year, my grandma practically moved to Guatemala city. She needed to be close us, her family, but at the same time, not being in Chapultepec (her home) made everything harder.

Being the strong woman she is, she decided to go back by herself. That's when she discovered the big old tree was practically dry. It was dying. She had people come over to examine it's roots. She was told to cut the tree before it fell over the house.

Except...she didn't. She couldn't let go of it. She waited, she trusted. And the tree answered (!) : new bright green leaves grow out of him every morning, an astonishing recovery.

My guess is... the tree missed my grandmother to death. Literally.

Looking at that huge old tree with bright green leaves growing through it's almost-dead dry branches makes you wonder if trees have feelings. I don't know that, but the thought of it sure gives me feel nice.