FAMILY TREE

Three days ago the large sweet gum tree in the middle of our front yard was taken down.  Its sister on the side of the yard was taken down as well.  Today their stumps were grinded to the ground.  A mound of sawdust sits in the spots where the trees used to live.  Splotches of bare patches of ground could be seen here and there, the result of years without sun killing the grass beneath the tree’s many and mighty limbs.    

I won’t miss raking piles and piles of leaves every fall.  This year I raked a record-high seven mounds of leaves: each one was two feet high, three feet wide and six feet long.  Leaves-a-plenty, for sure. 

I won’t miss the tiny gumballs on the ground littering not only the front yard but the driveway as well.  They were so plentiful a couple years ago that our friend Jan stepped on one of them, twisted her ankle and fell to the concrete.  Not pretty.

I won’t miss the tiny limbs that invariably fall to the ground every time the wind blows.  I can’t begin to guess how many I’ve picked up in the past 23 years.   

I won’t miss the large branch that continually breaks off, falls to the ground and magically grows back in the blink of an eye.  I won’t miss avoiding parking in the one spot on the driveway directly beneath the large branch, knowing full well it could fall on top of our vehicles at any moment.

I won’t miss mowing the front yard and cringing every time the blade scrapes across the tree root that has grown up through the grass.  I won’t miss having another cracked surface in the concrete driveway caused by the tree root growing underneath.

So why do I feel like I’ve lost a member of our family?

When my older son Justin and I used to shoot baskets in the driveway for hours on end, both of us learned how to compensate for the awkward bounce the basketball would take when it hit that one crack in the driveway.  Later this regimen would serve Justin well as he developed pretty quick hands that led to pretty solid defensive play when he played in the rec basketball leagues. 

When I used to throw ground ball after ground ball to my younger son Josh in the front yard, he knew exactly how to adjust for the bad hop the baseball would take when it struck the large tree root protruding from the lawn.  The practice would pay dividends when Josh played Little League baseball as he was particularly adept at fielding ground balls—particularly those taking bad hops.

Last fall when I raked the leaves in the front yard into the aforementioned large mounds, my grandson Krischan had the time of his life jumping into the mounds of fun again and again and again.  The photos of the occasion are absolutely priceless and will provide memories sure to last a lifetime. 

My wife Cindy and I used to enjoy sitting on the front porch in the spring, enjoying the fresh air while the large tree would block the rays of the setting sun.

I’ll miss having the mounds of leaves to supply the faux mulch for the wooded area in the back yard.

I know without the large branch falling on top of my (then beige) truck several years ago, causing considerable damage to the roof and hood, I would have never had the reconstructive bodywork done to make the truck ‘whole’ again.  And without the reconstructive bodywork I would have never had the truck repainted to a brilliant ‘Gator blue’ nor added the ‘Gator orange’ pinstriping.  Today my Gator Truck is one of my most prized possessions.

Yesterday when I got home from work the team of men who had taken down our tree were tossing pieces of it into the wood chipper.  Believe it or not, I thought I was going to vomit.

I think the only one who won’t be missing the tree is Jan.  But then again, although she is a very good friend of ours, she’s not family.