I love trees because they touch something deep in me that feels both ancient and familiar. When I’m around them, my whole body softens. My mind stops buzzing, my breathing slows, and I feel like I can finally hear myself think. There’s something grounding about standing next to something that doesn’t rush, doesn’t bend to the chaos around it, yet quietly survives every storm. Trees make me feel connected to something bigger than my own small worries; they’ve lived longer than I ever will, fed whole ecosystems, and turned sunlight into life long before I existed. And maybe I love trees because I see a bit of myself in them: scarred, resilient, still growing. Being with them feels like coming home.