Head North down Tilby road and make a left. You can’t miss the evergreen. It’s limbs twisting like a fist and it’ll break your heart if you stare at it long enough. Our parents hated this side of town because of the winding roads and the boy who crashed his car under the moonlight on that summer night. They still say that when he collided against the tree, the whole town went silent. I’m not sure how they didn’t hear the scream. It was red lights and smoke that cut through fog and the whole thing turned motionless. I wonder about sadness and what greets us when moments like this unfold. How the tree limbs grow angrier over time and parents keep calling and waiting and panicking. But we’re grown now and we finally care. The thrill of it all burnt out and we sunk into the monotony. I don’t close my eyes at stop signs anymore. Nothing scares me, until it does. And every time I drive back to the place I once called home, it buries a piece of me on Tilby road. It feels like summer longing. It feels like leaving. It feels like the Evergreen. -AMT ©️