Adaptation

I went for a walk on Friday and noticed two trees growing next to each other. They appeared to be fully grown (from what I know of trees) and healthy, thriving in the dense, bushy area around which I live in. The thing that caught my eye however was how one of the tree's limbs had grown so closely into the trunk of the other, that it had left an ugly brown and red wound, that although obviously years old, still looked painful. The wound was so large and intrusive that I was surprised that the tree was still alive, yet alone full and green. The flesh of the wounded trunk had apparently grown up and around the offending limb, cradling it tightly to itself, so that neither tree was free of the other.
I saw that oozing wound, the adaptation to pain, the thriving amidst and with the one that causes pain and I thought of relationships. I thought of how resilient we are, how we can grow around a possibly life threatening invasion of pain, how we can still surround and hold the ones who hurt us, how those closest to us hurt us the most as they scrape against our lives and how wounded and scarred as we are that we can still breathe the fresh air, feel the sun on our faces and feel that the world is a good place to be on a sunny August day.