Today's 100 words:
When I was growing up, I could look out my bedroom window and see two nearby trees, one a cherry and the other some sort of pine. The cherry tree was old and had all the character that old trees possess: crooked, perfect-for-sitting-in limbs; peeling bark; an aura of history. I knew as I looked at it that it had seen many things as it bore its fruit year after year. The pine was younger. I had watched it grow from small to suddenly tall, a sentinel beside the shorter cherry. That watchful pine is gone now, but the cherry endures.