My Tree

Before:



The tree that lives in front of my apartment building, my window, has been dying for some time now. I’ve affectionately dubbed it, my tree. I’ve only called it my tree since it’s been dying. Sometimes I wonder why this one in front of my apartment building, my window, is the one that has died, while all other ones on the street are still green, vibrant and alive.

For awhile now I’ve thought that some un-descript “they” are going to come dig up my tree and replace it with a new tree, one that’s green and alive. Every weird sound I hear has me rushing over to the window to see if “they” have come to chop it down. It’s totally brown and dead and has been like that for a long time now. But still, no one comes. I picture that the “they” in my head is someone that the city has sent over to clean it up. “They” probably wear coveralls and have a chainsaw and drive a truck. I imagine that “they” come to take the dead tree away in order to make the community look better, nicer, prettier even, because after all, it is “their” job. But that hasn’t happened yet.

And today:

THhheeeEY, came for my tree...



First and foremost, I want to state that, I AM NOT a tree-huggin-eat only organic/vegan-compostin-smell like patchouli-do yoga-hippie but, I am naming February 12, 2011, the day my tree was officially murdered. The guys that came for my tree were the Vietnamese men that work on my building as needed. “They” didn’t wear coveralls or drive a truck. When “they” were done they threw my tree away in the compost bin. “They” threw my tree away!! In the garbage!

I wonder what’s to come for this little patch of earth. Will there be a little sapling in its future? Only time will tell. As for now the space is a reminder of a time gone by. I’ll always remember my tree when I walk out of the apartment building, as the wind blows, a faint reminder of what was there is gone now, never to return.