I have a pretty visual memory and I remember every aspect of my yard, even well before we landscaped it. Every change from that original point has been hard, from the enormous dogwood with the spiral trunk that died of anthracnose, to the tiny pie cherry tree that was sacrificed when we landscaped. I remember everything, and every change makes me cling tighter to what's left.
Most of the trees in our yard are large Douglas firs, probably first generation after much of LFP was logged a century ago. You can see them in the early black and white pictures of our property taken back in the forties. I feel like they're the guardians of our home, and it's killing me that some of them will be gone in just a few days.
Our house was built very close to two of these trees, and so was the garage out back that became my Dad's shop when my parents moved there in 1976. Now, years later, the trees have grown so much that the roots under the house are starting to crack the foundation. You can see the cracks on our patio and in the floor of the shop. Even the driveway has cracked, and that's only a few years old. And my parents have decided that the trees have to go...two trees next to the house, and one in front of the shop (also starting to crack the shop roof). They'll be gone on Wednesday. I won't be there.
And I know why they have to do it, but I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate that I'll walk next to the house and feel sun there, instead of cool shade. I'll hate losing that dark green tunnel as I walk up the driveway and the sheltering spread over the side of the house. I hate that I'm losing three guardians that predated me by decades, maybe even a century, and watched me grow up. Everything about my home will feel different now and I'll never get it back, and there's nothing I can do.
My stomach and my throat hurts just thinking about it. I feel like crying.