by Evann Makati Normandin Greg Rosenke When I was a girl, my mother told me that someday I would be a tree. But I was young and didn’t understand. “What do you mean?” I asked. “It will happen all at once,” she said. “Your soft skin will grow hard and thick, your arms will give way to a network of branches, your hair will turn to foliage, and your feet will root themselves to the earth.” I looked up at the barren branches of the lone chestnut that once shaded our lawn. “But I