So I got a sad text from my dad today.
Is that silly? To tear over a tree?
It was a really cool tree. Somewhere, many years before us, when the tree was young a big wind storm can through and blew the tree’s roots over and the tree developed and grew along the ground. (On the other end of the next block is a similar tree with a limb that was blown over to grow the same way ).
Not one much for heights, it was always cool to have a tree that you could go all the way to the top. I’ve never been a coordinated one, but it was cool to pretend balance beam along the trunk.
It grew at a perfect height where the canopy of the tree curved up and made the perfect spot to scoop your body to lay in the curve of the tree. I read books, attempted to climb, laughed and watched clouds under the space limbs of that tree.
I took lots of pictures during my awkward years in front of the tree. (Thankfully I’m too far away from any of those to share them!). That’s where I stood in my first formal, before my first “outing” with a boy. Every Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, random summer gathering, etc were taken in front of that tree. It’s where I stood as a stage while I practiced my best Lee Greenwood’s proud to be an American and Part of that World from Little Mermaid (2 of my best go to songs)!
We moved to that house when I was in the fourth grade. So much of my childhood happened there. All afternoon I’ve been playing Miranda Lambert’s House that Built Me in my head.
It’s sad and I kinda wanna cry and hug my tree.
I told my dad this afternoon that we will have to start thinking about planting a new tree. I think about the people and neighbors that lived in that house before us. They never expected those 2 little girls to move in to that house. They had no idea all the memories we would make under that tree or the afternoon serenades that would ensue (thankfully the cops were never called for the high pitched noises coming from the developing soprano under the mesquite leaves).
So we will think. And, we will plant. Something new will grow.