Big Bertha Is Gone

She's gone.

That might not mean much to you, but she was a landmark.

A great tree spreading across the street. She had been there since I had grown up. She was there when I carried a paper route. She was there during the deepest snows and the hottest summers. She braved the hurricanes and came back strong.

I never paid much attention to her when I was young, but in the past few years, I would ride under her outstretched fingers every day, amazed at her breadth and the strength she symbolized. Neither traffic or construction or even the sidewalk could hold her back. She dominated the corner with a massive limb reaching across my path that I could rest in her shade.

Then this summer, during a storm, two of her branches fell. They were as large as most trees on the block and were stacked next to the curb. It was not a good sign.

A few days later, Bertha was marked. An orange X was sprayed on her trunk with a sign stating she would be removed.

A month passed and every day I would ride under her like a tollgate measuring my distance. Other trees had fallen or been removed over the past year and each was like a familiar friend, but Bertha was different.

I had seen several branches, limbs and even whole trees crash to the ground during my travels and I figured if one of those branches had my name on it, it would be Bertha's giant arms that would be my final.

So as I pass by her remains, I think of the others that went before her, to become the floors or framework of the homes for the returning army.

Perhaps she will become fine furniture or a child's swing set or a window to peer out on the flattened land.

Some day we will all be marked with an orange X.

Until then, stand tall and proud. and appreciate the sunshine and the rain, the chatter of the creatures who will outlast us all, and those who surround you every day.