He always hated children.
He never had kids of his own and when he died, he left his small piece of land to a friend. His only wish was to be cremated, his ashes mixed with the soil, and a redwood planted to absorb his body’s nutrients. That way, his friends and family would have a place to come and speak to him.
As the years passed, though, the few that had ever come to visit stopped coming. The land passed from his friend’s hands to another, and the distinction of the tree was remembered by none.
The tree grew tall and forgotten.
Many years later, the tree was cut down and turned into a picnic table. The land became part of a park and the table became a place where children liked to carve their names and little hearts.
He always did hate children.