Day 35- All traces of the tree have been removed. The dark green bushy canopy mulched and spat back out. The solid brown trunk with it’s rough flaky bark carved up, stacked and stored for next winter. The round stump cut off smoothly at the ankles and tangled roots exposed for the world to see, ground back to ashes that scatter the grave site.
The house now vacated echoing bare silence. Cold grey stiff panels of fencing vaguely mask the sadness laying jagged within the rubble. Locked away awaiting verdict.
The need for us to see the despair dies down. Distance makes it easier sometimes. Soaked tears rise and fall easily this week as life balances back out. We tread lightly through our new reality with curious eyes.