8.14.14 We All Begin As A Small Spark- The Maple

Tomorrow morning, two trees are being taken down here, one of them this beloved, sick, old Maple, a beloved friend. 

I have relished watching this tree drop magnificent leaves in the fall, sing winter songs in winter storms, and glisten in the frozen ice-glazed mornings;

 I've stood by watching as it sent out small buds and miniature bouquet-like blossoms come spring, and extend their tender brightest green leaves in summer.

 We as a family have sat beneath it's shade on hot summer days for so many years now; 

my husband and I holding hands for hours beneath it's sheltering branches as night falls, in every single season. I know.

 I know we all begin, as this tree once did;

 as a seed, and then a tiny sapling, up into a tree this large and this old. 

Magnificent and tall and linked by mycelium to all the other trees in this land here.

 I know we all begin as a small spark, unbelievably- and end as dust.

 I embrace this. But still, for each of us, the endings?
A Hold such sadness and loss.