Todd and I met a tree named Pamela. She lives in California Woods, a park on the outskirts of Cincinnati. She looked like a backwards four. Some might say she looked like an arm getting ready to flex. Despite her odd appearance, she was quite friendly. Without her leaves, she had grown lonely. The trees around her were snobby and rude she said. In fact, she hadn’t talked to them in years. She was happy to see us and asked us to sit and stay awhile. She had many stories to tell. She told of visits from birds, deer, foxes and even the occasional human. Most of these visits consisted of her listening to their troubles. She was in a good spot for telling troubles. Todd and I sat quietly and listened to her tales. After a few hours, when the sun started to creep down, she advised us it was time to go. “There are monsters in this forest. They show up at night looking for the human who has lost his way.” On her advice, off we went, back to civilization. As we left, we herd her sigh. Looking back, we saw that loneliness had once again encapsulated her.