My TY

Aoife Cassidy, of Wesley College in Dublin, mourns the loss of a childhood landmark - a walnut tree that was close to her heart

Driving home from a friend's party a few Fridays ago, my dad dropped some devastating news. "Did you hear?" he said suddenly, and tactlessly. "The old walnut tree in Marlay Park fell down."

Call me a tree-hugger if you must, but as my brain absorbed this shocking news my heart sank deep in my stomach. I knew the last, frantic gasps of Hurricane Gordon had raged through Dublin the night before, but apart from waking up to find branches strewn all over the place like badly parked witches' brooms, and the rest of the city slanting slightly in a northeasterly direction, I had never expected an emotional blow.

That tree had been there for 400 years. It was a constant in a world of disorder, disaster and disposable everythings. About 15 generations had climbed its gnarled trunk, held picnics under its leafy canopy and stretched out on its broad branches, feeling just a little closer to touching the sky.

So the following day I tramped over to pay my last respects and say a final goodbye. (No, not to hug it.) As I turned into the park, a horrific sight met my eyes. Our majestic tree had been wrenched apart by desperate, clawing gusts. What had been so strong, firm and robust was now lying dead on the ground. It looked so vulnerable. How could something so stable and certain be destroyed in a night? If this giant of a tree could fall so easily, what hope was there for anything else?

Later that day I shared the news with my friends. Expecting to be ridiculed for caring about such a thing, I was shocked, and secretly pleased, when the information was met with a round of astounded gasps and distressed cries. They then began to recount their own experiences with the tree. Even the most macho and unfeeling of my male friends revealed childhood memories of sun-drenched summer days playing hide-and-seek.

As we chuckled at each other's escapades, and mourned the demise of such a landmark, I realised that perhaps I should not be troubled by the downfall of that grand tree but heartened by how simple a thing could bring so much joy to so many people.

If a single tree can bring such delight and evoke such a response at its death, it shows that our small world isn't completely consumed by materialism.

Everyone I have mentioned the old walnut tree to has had at least one story to tell. I wonder what stories it could have told us.

• If you would like to contribute to My TY, e-mail a 500-word article to gfaller@irish-times.ie. Please include your name, your school's name and a contact number