The Child Who Greeted Every Tree

Near Tommaso’s house there was a path between carob and olive trees.

Every afternoon, when the sky turned the colour of ripe plums, Tommaso walked there with his grandfather. Grandfather greeted everyone: the neighbour, the dog behind the gate, the woman watering basil, even the old wall.

One evening he stopped before an olive tree and said, “Good evening.”

A single leaf moved.

Tommaso looked up. “Was that the wind?”

“There is no wind,” said Grandfather.

Tommaso tried with the carob tree.

“Good evening, carob.”

A dark leaf trembled softly.

The child opened his eyes wide. The trees were answering.

From that day, Tommaso greeted every tree on the path. The young almond tree answered quickly, as if it were impatient. The carob answered slowly, with the wisdom of shade. The olive tree answered with one silver leaf, never more, never less.

At first Tommaso did it because of the magic. Then he noticed something else. When he greeted the trees, he walked more carefully. He did not break twigs. He did not kick stones without looking. He saw new buds, nests, ants, fallen olives.

One day he was sad and forgot to speak. The path felt colder.

At the end of it, the oldest olive tree moved a leaf anyway.

“You greeted me even when I forgot,” Tommaso whispered.

The olive tree rustled.

Grandfather said, “Sometimes the world greets us first, to remind us that we belong.”

That evening Tommaso understood. Saying good evening to a tree was not childish. It was a way of remembering that the world was alive beside him.

And from then on, wherever he went, he greeted things gently: doors, stones, cats, clouds, people.

The world did not always answer with a moving leaf. But Tommaso felt less alone.