This story, which I am about to tell you, is how one simple object became a family legend. It has helped me find the man that I love. No, I have to change that. To my soul mate for reasons which I will explain in the future.

It started 20 years ago at my hometown of Nashville. My grandfather had once told me that the tree we always sat under was named after me. I was seven but I knew better. He would always try to convince me that the tree had some kind of magic. He would then try to prove the theory by telling the story of him and grandma. He always started the story saying:

"Willow, no matter how old you get, know that you will always learn something new. I've learned that if you love someone you have to let them go. If they return to you, it was meant to be. They are your soul mate."

He then told the story on how grandma and himself had gotten into a huge fight. She never wanted to see him again. He had hope that she would come back, otherwise he knew he would be a miserable man for the rest of his life. It was one night two years later, while he was reading a book under that very willow that she came back to him. They were in love and felt as if they knew each other more than ever.

Well if that willow was magical how come it didn't save itself? How come it allowed the construction workers, which my parents hired, to tear it down along with all its memories? I never really forgave my parents that day. I watched as the one thing that was a tangible memory of my grandfather get destroyed. I pled saying if they didn't keep it, they would loose me as well. I guess they didn't want to try hard enough.

So now my chapter is being written on how the willow tree changed my life.