# Branching Paths

## From One Root

Life often feels like a sturdy trunk rising from the earth. We start in one place, shaped by early soil—family, home, quiet mornings. On a crisp December day in 2025, walking under bare trees, I see how this trunk holds steady, feeding what comes next. It's our foundation, unyielding yet open to skyward reach.

## Diverging Limbs

Then come the branches. A job offer pulls left, a friendship veers right, a sudden whim curves upward. Each split is a quiet decision, not a dramatic fork. They stretch unevenly—some thick and fruitful, others thin and fleeting. In these reaches, we test wind and light, learning through sway. No path is wrong; they simply spread what was held within.

## Shared Sky

Yet branches don't wander alone. They weave a canopy, touching tips with neighbors, casting mutual shade. What diverges often circles back—stories shared at gatherings, lessons from one limb strengthening another. In this quiet network, isolation fades. We grow not despite the splits, but because of them.

Branching reminds us: hold your root, follow your reach, trust the weave.

*On this winter's eve, every limb whispers possibility.*