Let me start off by apologizing to my grandmother, she has asked me over and over again not to write about the stuff she says. And trust me I could fill a book with the crazy stuff she has said and done. But none the less I think she will find that I am writing about her because I admire the way in which she sees the world.
Through my grandmother’s eyes, I have been able to look at the trees. The same trees I have been looking at since I first glanced at one. The difference now is that I am aware that they are trees. You are probably reading this and thinking ‘Nichole trees have always looked like trees.’
But what I think our eyes fail to see sometimes are the things we see all the time. Drive down the road and try to count every tree you see, you won’t be able to. Trees are everywhere. Our eyes simply glance over them and look at the exciting billboards, other divers, or shops along our path.
But that’s not how my grandmother’s eye’s work. Her eyes notice every little detail of them. Get in a car with her and I bet she will exclaim about how beautiful the trees are. She will go on to tell about how wonderful it is to have the color green in our lives. And when the leaves start to change she thinks its the most beautiful thing in the world, its as if her eyes see every shade of red and yellow as the leaves change.
As I get older I have started to see trees through her eyes. I notice how some have flowers that bloom and others stay green all year. I notice how some trees grow so tall and wide you feel like a giant under them. And I notice how others fight to stay upright when a strong Texas storm rolls through.
I know I probably only see a tenth of the beauty she does, but that small percent shows me that there is beauty even in the things my eyes so easily pass over. Thank you grandmother for showing my eyes such a beautiful wonder.