I wrapped my arms around him.
“Robert, that’s exactly what your father wanted you to understand someday.”
But the most emotional moment was still to come.
As we were preparing to leave, Robert noticed three young trees growing beside the oak.
On the trunk of one of them was an old, barely visible marking.
He recognized it immediately.
“My father used to mark the trees he planted this way.”
Then, suddenly, he smiled.
“Do you know what I’m going to do?”
“What?”
“I’m not going to let this forest remain just a memory.”
A month later, Robert contacted the local forest rangers.
With their permission and the help of specialists, we began a project to restore damaged sections of the forest.
Our two grown children joined us.
On the first day, Robert showed them the little wooden car his father had made.
And he told them the truth he had kept buried inside himself for thirty years.
