Dale had planted a tree in a park. He had been a young boy on that Arbor Day.
Dale wanted to show his great grandson the tree he had planted.
The two walked through the park but Dale recognized nothing. All that he saw was strange.
Searching for his long-ago tree, Dale hopelessly regarded the immense oaks. They rose high above him, a confusion of furrowed trunks that cast spidery shadows. These trees, thought Dale, were very old. How could they possibly be so old?
Dale moved slowly and despaired he would never find the tree he had planted.
Sudden laughter made him spin around.
His great grandson had climbed up onto a nearby branch and was smiling down at him. “Is this your tree?”
“Well, maybe!”
Short Stories by Richard 
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