We lost a tree.

A white oak.

I measured her circumference — around 100 inches.

I looked up the method for determining age.
I found she can be anywhere from 100 to 200 years old.

That seems crazy to me.

This tree was here before the house… before the street was paved.
Here she stood.
Until yesterday.

My wife noticed one side wasn’t growing leaves. There were mushroom-like fungi bursting through the trunk.

The tree is on the curbside. She’s the city’s responsibility.
They checked her. Determined she was a fall risk. And took her down piece by piece rather than let her fall down on her own terms, possibly taking out half the block.

They’re taking her piece by piece. I suppose it’s more dignified.

I’m taking this much harder than I thought I would.
I’m taking it harder than oaken wood.

A mighty oak that watched this city grow from farmland to a burgeoning commuter city between the railroad tracks and the Long Island Sound.

When she was a sapling, there wasn’t a paved road. There were no wires.

Her trunk stands still.
Still waiting for the next business day when the Asplundh trucks come to take what is left.

And then there will be a stump. Her roots still beneath the yard, the road, perhaps the house itself.

I wonder if the other trees feel this loss.
I’m afraid to ask. Afraid to hear their answer shudder through the leaves.
Instead, I offer them love. I feed the birds who spread their seeds.
What else can I do?

Incidentally, on the day after work began, a tree a block away shed a giant branch. It closed the road.

Do trees grieve?

A gray squirrel scurried up the trunk. Stood at the flattened top and looked confused, crawled back down, and went back to digging.

Was he looking for his home?

The sun is a little stronger on me today. But not brighter.

We lost an oak tree, and I feel like I lost a friend.

I hope the remaining trees fill in her absence with their canopy.
I pray they interlock their arms with each other so the squirrels can run between them and the birds can carry more seeds for saplings to spread her soul along the Sound Shore.