The bench in that park was still damp from the recent afternoon rain. I didn’t mind as I sat on it anyway, slouching back it the comfortable embrace it offered. Sitting there, I looked at the tree a few yards away that was providing the shade for the bench I now relaxed upon. Looking at it like so many visits before to that bench, it suddenly caught my attention. I had seen it so many times before and realized I had never really seen it. It mottled bark of silver and grey still glistened with the dampness of the recent rain. The huge tree, for it was not a young tree, stretched it massive limbs, uplifting them to the sky as though giving thanks for the life giving rain. Rain, whose deposited drops gathered themselves to slowly seek the edge of a leaf and drop yet again to another leaf below until it vanished into the bright green grass laying at the foot of the old tree. A carpet of grass hugging the trunk as if it were a blanket to keep the trees roots warm. The age of the tree I could not determine, but I knew it had seen more sunrises and full moons than had I. As I sat mesmerized by the tree, the leaves slowly shed the weight of the rain and allowed themselves to flutter in the soft breeze which caressed them, teased them into a light dance. Suddenly, I became just how aware I had become of the moment. Awed, humbled, I left the bench, knowing that the next time I visited, I would appreciate it even more.