I used to collect acorns in Autumn, keep them in a plastic bag with a little moisture in my fridge for a couple of weeks or months.
I would then plant them in pots and leave them by my window until Spring.
I would watch them grow, fully aware that I would have to let them go one day. Because oak trees need nurturing, water, food, but they also need space to grow their mighty branches and leaves. So I would plant them in the woods in Spring and visit them every now and then. Proud. Content. Pleased.
I didn’t know back then, but I was rehearsing.
I realise it now when I see my own children growing. Fully aware that no matter how much nurturing, water, food and shelter I give them, they still need space to grow, they still need to be out there in a world where trees are cut, not protected.
Yesterday, a teenager was killed not far from where I live. Knife crime. Day light. The 2nd this year. And mind you, London is not too bad for teenagers and children. Can you imagine what it is like in war zones?
Rehearsals yes. Trees yes. Cut short, not having the opportunity to grow – how can I help but feeling that it all happens too early?