I lost a good friend today. Not a two-legged or even a four-legged friend. This friend, a tall, sturdy blue spruce, had lent its quiet, comforting presence for as long as I've lived here. It greeted me as I came up the drive, provided a shady oasis on hot days. When summer comes, I move into the guest room because it's cooler. The tree was the last thing I would see before I went to sleep, standing like the mast of a ship against the stars. In the morning, it became Central Park for the birds.
Today, it was cut down to allow access to my septic tank, which it grew on top of. Yes, life is full of irony. It's still a shock to see the landscape without it, to look out the bedroom window and not find it standing guard. Of course, it's that way whenever we lose a loved one. The landscape changes. There's a hole where the loved one should be. And eventually, the scar in the ground is healed. But there's always a place in the heart that holds the memory.
