To see a tree

I think I was one of the first people to see my grandson see a tree. He was born in the desert and there were no trees except the Joshuas rising stiff and unyielding as buildings to the brand new eye.
He came to visit me when he was a few months old. I took him outside and the two of us lay under our front yard tree. I watched him watch as the breeze moved the leaves. He followed the patterns of shadow and shade with such wonder, I knew he was giving me the gift of first sight.