How can I say thanks?

You gave my ancestors life. You made the air we need to breathe. To live.

To wield the tool that took your life.

I don’t know who chopped you down. Who turned you from life to board. Who covered you with plaster and paint.

That happened half a century ago. Twenty years before I was born.

But even now, you nourish me still. You keep me safe. You give me a place to sleep. To live.

And you will do the same for others, long after I’m gone.