Everything has a story, a tale to be told. However, you must know that the size of an item, especially in nature, does not dictate the magnitude of the story it holds inside. Consider this little tree. What if I told you that this little tree, with multiple trunks spiraling about meeting at the soil and limbs with small serrated leaves stretched out as far as it could muster, frailly strong, has a great tale to tell? You probably wouldn’t believe me, would you? Well, it may seem like just a small, mundane tree to you, but I see a lifetime full of constant struggle and anguish.

This little tree enters battle every day; an uphill battle against a surrounding world of infamous issues, such as the current terrible drought that has been. Every day, this little tree works hard with an unbreakable, intense spirit to fill its yearning for revival, received only when a precious natural resource is absorbed. The very source that gives all living things the ability to survive: water. This little tree, to which I have given the name lacte et melle manantem tree, (milk and honey in the extinct language, Latin) longs for this miraculous substance to reach it easily so it doesn’t have to fight for replenishment. So when the predictable and probably inevitable occurs, the arduous journey to refreshment begins. The feeling of the preordained hits, it’s a dagger to the minute tree’s not seen but felt soul. Passion oozing out as the dagger is twisted, yet is somehow reimbursed by the still-full mind. Per contra, I was galvanized by the astonishing speculation that every day it gets up again and fights for what it wants, what it needs.

Each day, battered down by the pain caused by the struggle of the uphill battle, amidst the mess of the world, this tiny milk and honey tree presents something beautiful to the world, despite its seemingly perpetual struggle. The wafting smell of milk and honey, true to its name, intrigues all who smell it to seek the source. The awe-strikingly amazing and fresh scent is mesmerizing; the undertone of a tangy citrus bite gives witnesses an eerie sense to along with the sweet. All are shocked to find that such a magnificent smell came from just a little tree.

Who can say that this little tree has no story? Who can say that this little tree doesn’t fight a battle every day? Who can say that just because something has been beaten down that it can’t make something lovely? Who can say that there isn’t a bright side to everything?
The answer is no one.

This little tree is just like me. This little tree hopes that someday things will be different. This little tree dreams of a day when the unavoidable has been avoided. This little tree wishes for a day without pain. Just like me.

In recent times, my father has been drilling the idea of perseverance into my mind. He’s said phrases along the lines of: “if you give up now, you’ll never see the rainbow at the end of the rain,” and, “just keep trying.” If you give up on your battle, your journey, then you’ve given up on all of your aspirations, hopes, and dreams. All lost. Just because you lost sight of your goal, because it was painful, because you didn’t want to trek on when the times got tough. The foreseen might not have occurred the next day. You might have had a breakthrough the next day. The next day could’ve been the great avail, the day when your dreams come true. The day you won. Or, it could’ve been just another day of the usual harsh combat. But you gave up. Nothing will ever happen now.

This meager lacte et melle manantem tree has been through times thick and thin. Some days better than others; some were moist, and others unbearably dry. Whatever the weather, this little tree fights on. It works towards the goal of having the freedom to not need to fight to survive every day. It fights for its day to thrive, to shine. Every day. Nonstop. This little tree has earned the gift of perseverance.

If you think about it, we are all just little trees, struggling to survive in our own hectic lives better known as our uphill battles. We always hope that things will finally change. We always wish for a day without pain. We will always wait for the day we arrive at our destinations; where we receive the marvelous guerdon for our hard work. Trek on, dear reader, and someday you will win. What will your thing of beauty be?