Back … forth … back … forth … she sits in her creaky rocking chair pleasantly reminiscing about her lost childhood as she crochets a warm fuzzy quilt for her granddaughter. Out of nowhere her desire to finish the quilt before noon fades and she find her attention drifting towards the window and looking at a giant maple tree bejeweled in sparkling frost. The tree is old and withered, it has aged immensely; it is somewhat like the old woman … even the texture of the bark is likened to the wrinkles on her face and body. Beyond the bark there is a history of both painful wounds and happy memories, each a