I grew up in Norwood Park on Chicago's Northwest side. We lived three houses down from the Park District. Close to the fieldhouse was a clump of smaller trees. The variety was unknown and unimportant to me. What was significant was that as a short six-year-old, I could climb its branches and disappear within its arms. Being one of five kids this nameless tree gave me a safe haven. I found peace and quiet where I could escape to think and to dream. I haven't been to the park in years and have no idea if it still exists, but I carry it with me. Recently, I've become widowed and while I no longer climb trees, I find that a walk amongst them can quiet my heart and give me peace.