Gemotions

The sunlight glinted off the chrome of Mr. Peterson’s new truck. He stood at the edge of his property, hat in hand, looking uncomfortable. The sprawling maple, its roots slowly undermining his driveway, was the subject.

He cleared his throat. "Look, Mr. Riley, I know this is a big ask…" He avoided my eyes.

I walked toward him, hands in my pockets. I knew he had just sunk his entire savings into the truck. He had bragged about it just a few weeks ago.

"The kids are getting older," he said, his voice hesitant, “and… well, that tree is causing some serious damage.” I saw the anxiety etched on his face. He knew cutting the tree down would cost a lot of money.

I looked at the tree, then back at him. "Let me call the arborist I used last year. See if there’s another way."