There had been an effort to honor those affected.
And there had been a decision to plant something living in a place associated with loss.
She looked up at the tree.
Its branches moved gently overhead, and the leaves caught the afternoon light. There was nothing extraordinary about the movement. The tree was simply responding to the breeze.
Yet the sight affected her more deeply than she expected.
It seemed to embody a possibility she had struggled to accept.
Something painful could remain part of a place without defining every part of its future.
The accident had happened. Its consequences were real. The years that followed had contained difficulties she could not simply erase.
But the location had not stopped existing after that day.
People had returned to it. Repairs had been made. The surrounding landscape had changed. The tree had grown.
Life had continued in ways both ordinary and meaningful.
