How do you mourn a tree?
Actually, two trees.
Every morning on my walk before work, I would pass by the one, and then a few steps further the other.
Every morning as I passed each one, I would reach out a hand and press my palm to its trunk, just leaning on it a little without breaking my stride.
A silent acknowledgment of its strength and steadfastness.
A sign of appreciation for its majestic presence.
Observing over the years, the trees’ slow motion changes through the seasons.
Home to the squirrels, resting place for birds.
The girth at each base was larger than two people could reach their arms around.
So very tall.
And now they are gone.
They grew on the parkway of Norris Street, the jurisdiction of the city.
I am not ready to consider the why. I am just stricken by the what.
How do you mourn a tree?
Same as any old friend. With sadly fond remembrance.
