Gemotions

The rustling of leaves was replaced by the clatter of machinery. The ancient, gnarled oak, a constant presence for decades, was being dismantled. My neighbor, Mrs. Davies, had requested its removal. She had been worried about its stability.

My throat felt tight. I remembered all the ways she’d enriched my life. The cookies she'd baked, the chats over the fence, the unwavering support during my health scare.

I spent the morning helping clean up the debris. I hauled branches, stacked logs, anything to help, my back aching but my spirit lightened with each task completed.