Roots that bond

Some connections change shape but never fade.

The ginkgo, with its golden fall leaves and ancient roots, reminds me that even when everything else shifts, the bonds that matter most find a way to remain.

The ginkgo has become more than a tree to me.

Like me, it’s a survivor — a living emblem of endurance and grace. Some of the oldest ginkgos have stood for more than a thousand years, their roots holding the memory of entire civilizations. Even after the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, when almost everything else was reduced to ash, ginkgos sprouted again. That kind of resilience feels almost impossible to fathom — and yet, it’s real.

Maybe that’s why the ginkgo has come to symbolize longevity, resilience, and hope. It endures what others can’t, and it keeps growing anyway. Its fan-shaped leaves — split gently into two lobes — seem to hold balance in their very design: life and death, strength and fragility, loss and renewal.

We always shared a love for this tree.

Every fall, we’d point them out to each other — those bursts of yellow that can vanish overnight. The leaves turn, glow, and fall so quickly that it feels like a small game to catch them before it’s too late.

We even have matching ginkgo tattoos, each leaf curved slightly differently but rooted in the same idea: beauty, fleetingness, survival.

Now, when I see the trees blaze gold against a gray November sky, I still stop.

The colors change, just like we did, but the strength of the tree remains — just like our bond. The ginkgo reminds me that even when something transforms, its roots can hold steady, carrying what was into what still is.