My roots run deep

My roots run deep in Southern California.

In this case, that’s damn near literal.

Many moons ago my grandfather planted these trees that sit along a main artery near Laguna Beach.

I just found out about them.

Arteries of blood. Roots of trees. Seeds of DNA swirls that gestate possibilities that have no end.

These are the cradles our ancestors build for us.

Whether we know them or not.

Whether we acknowledge them or not.

What does it feel like to nestle into newly discovered and fully grown giant trees that were once a seed in the palm of my grandfather’s sturdy hand?

It feels like home.

On every possible level.