Years ago, there was a young boy. He was no older than six, and most people associate youth with innocence. This child is no exception. He has taken the “helicopter” seeds that have fallen from an old maple tree and is planting them in the woods behind his house. His mind cannot fathom that 50 years after he dug up the dirt with his bare hands, this tree will hold more memories than he will. But for now, he simply pats the dirt into a neat mound. His fingers are caked with mud as he runs inside his house to fill up a glass. He drenches the seeds and sits patiently for the rest of the day.
Alas, all of the willpower in the world could not speed time. The child got bored, and went inside for dinner. As the sun faded, so did his interest.
Many years passed, and the family moved out, without a thought of the tree, which had now grown tall and strong.
The house sold quickly, and then there was a new child, and along with her a new generation of memories to be made.
She was 12 years old, and wrote stories. She filled notebooks one after another. Everyday, upon arrival home from school, the girl climbed the tree and described her day to no one in particular besides herself.
There was a special large branch she sat on. It was one of the highest branches, about 15 feet off the ground. It was difficult to get that far up, but worth it, because from up there, she could sense everything more clearly than ever before. The air smelled slightly like maple and her hands were sticky from the sap.
The tree became like a second home to her. It was like a staple in her life, a friend. It was so apart of her life that days when she didn’t climb it gave a feeling of uneasiness. 
For years, she visited the tree. Eventually, age took its toll, on both the girl and the tree. She moved away, as everyone does, off to a home of her own. Eventually, her family left as well.
Once again, a generation ended and another began. This time, a brother and sister moved in. They sat under the shade of the leaves, talking. Their names were  Thomas and Casey.
Usually conversations included school, memories, troubles. It was good to be able to unwind.
Occasionally, they would bring friends with them. It was Thomas, Casey, and their friends Dean and Macy.
One day, Dean asked, “Hey, guys, what are you going to do about college?” The topic had been bugging him lately.
His question was followed by silence, and then Casey said, “I want to study abroad.”
“Abroad?” Thomas asked, not sure how his sister could have failed to mention this before today.
“Well, they have some good creative arts colleges around the world.”
“Well, what are we going to do without you?” Macy asked.
Casey looked toward the ground. “I don't-- I mean, it’s only four years. And I can come visit you on holidays and stuff.”
“Well, what if you don't get accepted? Will you stay here?”
“Um, actually, I sent in my application in a little early and-- well, I got in.”
“I just don't understand why you wouldn’t tell us this.” Dean murmured.
“Well, are we just supposed to stay here forever? We have to leave sometime. It’s not my fault I’m the first one to go.”
As they all sat under the fading sky, they got lost in thoughts of the future. The air was cool and the stars were faintly visible against the navy blue ceiling sheltering them. 
It was a little sad, as the future was staring them in the face. Casey was right; they were all going to leave. Some things are just not meant to last forever. 
Promises were made to come back and sit under the tree even after they are gone.
However, as the years pass, each of them leave, and pacts, of course, are broken.
This does not mean that when the roots are finally ripped out, it isn’t bittersweet.  It is. To most people, it was just another tree; but to some, it was the world.