tree hugger

They showed up at the door with their chainsaws ready. Politely, they informed me they were here to cut down the tree. My insides started to ache. I wasn't expecting them so soon.

I let them in through the back gate and went inside. Peeking through the window blinds, I watched as they inspected the area and stared up at the tree making their plan of attack. Darn that tree! Why did its roots have to do so much damage? I didn't want to get rid of it. But leaving it there could have resulted in a much bigger disaster.

There I sat pacing, stewing, worrying about a tree. A tree! I've never considered myself a tree hugger per se, but at that very moment I wanted to run out into the backyard and beg for its freedom. Birkenstocks and all.

Silly me.

I stood and watched as they cut down every limb. Then I called Jeff and bawled my eyes out. It was gone. I felt like a little girl watching my woobie get sucked up in the vacuum cleaner. My security blanket was taken…and the only thing left behind was a view of my neighbor in his bedroom riding a cross-trainer.

Long after they had left, I finally pulled myself together. I pulled together that silly little girl crying at the back window and told her that woobies aren't around forever. And that sometimes trees aren't either.

So, goodbye tree. Thanks for your shade, your strength, your security, and even the birds you housed that has some serious diarrhea. We had some good times together, but still, I'll miss you.

Come to think of it, maybe it wasn't really you that needed a hug. It was me.