They cut 'em down, the trees of perhaps my earliest memory: driving to the new house for the first time, turning down a lane with a canopy of red and gold leaves, only peeps of blue sky to be seen.
But even that's not quite right. We moved to that house in August, well before the leaves would've turned.
When I passed by today, all but one maple along that first edge of the yard had been cut down. Wide, low stumps signaled their absence. "What the fuck were they thinking?" A walker was coming up the road across from me but I didn't care if she'd seen me talking to myself.
Those trees were always such an integral part of that space to me. It's been coming though. The old wood fence I used to climb to reach branches was taken down a couple years ago. The house paint's a bit different, the yard re-landscaped. The house next door torn down and replaced by a much larger, impressive red one this summer.
I just wanted to see that canopy of changing leaves again, to determine if my visual memory is accurate. It's probably just as well I can't check because now I can assume that it is.
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