Puesta del Sol
by Carlos Guierrez Torrejon
This morning at 8:00 Luis and the other workers from the tree removal company began to "take down" my beloved redwood tree [the one on the north side of my house] that has stood [with majesty] right next to the downstairs little room under the stairs for thirty five years. We planted this tree two years after we moved into this house, when Brandon was three and Shanan was one. For six years my sweet Isidore patrolled [ran over to and around] this tree many times each day to check for squirrels. It will take two days to down the tree and remove the stump.
I can see this redwood tree's branches and its trunk from my bed when I first wake up and while I sit at my desk with my coffee in the early morning. I can see its trunk and branches through the tiny windows above the fireplace when I visit with my family and friends [and when I teach my Salon class] in my living room. I can see its trunk [only] from the little room under the stairs when I watch TV at night. And I can see its branches [only] when I sit on the window seat [with Isidore] and look north. [It is from this spot on the window seat that my sweet Isidore watched [daily] for squirrels jumping from one branch to another, from this tree to the one in the corner over by the sidewalk.] Its branches rustle and tap the windows and the sides of the house all hours of the day and night. When it is windy, these same branches strike the side of the house as if with a punishing beating. This redwood tree is too close to the house. It has grown so large [seemingly just this last spring from the heavy rains in December and January] that it is now pressed against the side of my house and groans with sorrow and displeasure from the slightest wind. This redwood tree is too close to my house.
I can see this redwood tree's branches and its trunk from my bed when I first wake up and while I sit at my desk with my coffee in the early morning. I can see its trunk and branches through the tiny windows above the fireplace when I visit with my family and friends [and when I teach my Salon class] in my living room. I can see its trunk [only] from the little room under the stairs when I watch TV at night. And I can see its branches [only] when I sit on the window seat [with Isidore] and look north. [It is from this spot on the window seat that my sweet Isidore watched [daily] for squirrels jumping from one branch to another, from this tree to the one in the corner over by the sidewalk.] Its branches rustle and tap the windows and the sides of the house all hours of the day and night. When it is windy, these same branches strike the side of the house as if with a punishing beating. This redwood tree is too close to the house. It has grown so large [seemingly just this last spring from the heavy rains in December and January] that it is now pressed against the side of my house and groans with sorrow and displeasure from the slightest wind. This redwood tree is too close to my house.
But of course. There will be more light inside my house.
4 comments:
It's hard to lose a tree that has been a marker over so much of your life in the house.
But at least you have two other majestic trees that have those same memories
Yes, indeed. And there is more light in the little room under the stairs.
Agradecido 8D
Con much gusto!
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