The Day the Tree Fell

In the midst of this Age of Corona, I have shared a deep feeling of isolation with you all.  Being alone was a new normal for me starting three years ago when I move to a place totally outside of my comfort zone.  But I adjusted.  I even wrote a book about it.  Now, being forced to remain separate from each other, I find that I somehow have a talent for it.  Going from a circle of friends to having no one was a challenge I would not wish on anyone.  But, I managed.  I rebuilt.  And I have a circle of friends now that reveal themselves to me in unexpected and heartwarming ways.  So, while I may be experiencing feelings of isolation, it doesn't feel crippling.  It's the new normal that I built something good upon.

Certainly, though, the hardest thing for me has been the loss of freedom to go visit my family.  I don't call my brother in California more than once every 7 to 10 days because I don't want to feel clingy.  Indianapolis and my son and Tennessee and my daughter feel like moons circling my planet C'ville with no ship schedule to bring me there for visits.  So, when something really out of the ordinary happens, the very first thing I want to do is call family.  Two calls. No answers.  Texts sent with a request to call as soon as possible.  No call to my brother, just pictures of the event.  I figure I'll hear from him eventually but I'm not holding my breath.  He's probably out hiking.  He'll be out amongst the trees on, this, the day my tree fell.

It was windy today.  It was at the bluster level and moved the shrubs beneath the windows and the tree limbs out front in circles that swirled and dipped as they rose and fell.  I could hear the wind just outside the window but then something changed and the shrubs and trees whipped and flew.  I rose as the wind rose and heard a terrible crackle and pop. Rice Crispies on steroids would be a good analogy.  A sort of explosion happened outside the window that drew me closer.  As the tree fell, in slow-motion, I moved closer to the window, not believing what I was seeing and crying out for Don. Louder and louder, I cried out.  The crush of the huge old oak tree took out one side of my beautiful Gingko as I madly pulled at the locked front door.  My brain was frozen making it impossible for me to fit the keys in the locks.

When I finally got outside through the side door, this is what I found.

Neighbors came pouring out of their front doors. Approaching cars ground to a halt as they gapped at the massive oak tree that once shaded the street and now was flattened to the ground. Rules of social distancing disappeared in the face of the massive power of the wind.  Waves of shock flooded me like a relentless tidal swell.  Mayor Sue Grantham drove up.  Chief of Police Tony Jones and Fire Chief Charlie Jones both showed up.  Someone kindly called Southern Tree Care, our usual tree company we call upon for bi-annual tree trims, and eventually, they got to work.  

When the fog cleared, I found a quiet place and called AAA.  With an estimate of $2,000 in hand, I acknowledged that it would not meet our deductible and had to admit that THAT was good news.  On Wednesday we received our stimulus payment of $2,400.  On Friday, our tree fell.  Easy come easy go and the face of gratitude below reflects how different the conversation would have been with AAA if the tree had hit our house or if someone had been walking by.  The conversation would have been very different, indeed.