The Tree

There is a tree in the jungle that everyone knows.

Its trunk is strong and its roots are deep, so deep that no wind has ever managed to move it. It is anchored to the earth like a promise. And its branches are wide, this wide, open like two arms that never grow tired of staying open.

Under those branches, anyone who comes finds shelter. The tiniest little birds, when it rains. The squirrels, who build their nest right there. Everyone has a place among its branches. No one is ever one too many.

And sometimes, when evening falls and the silence becomes complete, if you listen carefully you can hear them talking to each other. The squirrels ask the birds what it is like to fly high in the sky. And the birds ask the squirrels how they find the tastiest acorns. They tell each other about their day, like that, until they all fall asleep together, safe.

There was one night when an owl came close, looking for its dinner. But the tree noticed, and held all its little ones tight among its branches, close to its heart, and made them invisible. The bird of prey passed by, looked, and saw no one. It saw only leaves. Only a quiet tree in the night.

This book is dedicated to that tree.

To Kiki, who never left. And to all the children of this land, so they remember that there is always, somewhere, a place and two open arms where no one is ever one too many, and where no owl can find them.