They are cutting down a tree on my block. The day they started cutting it, I looked up the road and noticed the absence, a giant hole in the horizon where the limbs used to be. By the end of the day, it was gone. No trunk, no branches, no tree. The street looked so different.
I was walking home today and I saw people walking purposefully behind the restaurant on the block. There were no loud noises and nobody was crying or screaming but I could tell something was wrong. I walked by, across the street and there was a palpable tenseness in the air. In a moment, a man walked out from behind the trees with his hands clutching his head like he was injured. One of the people I initially saw helped him sit in the grass. He was in pain, but everyone was quiet, no panic. When I came back around, an ambulance had arrived. Children played in the yard behind him. People attended to him and he clutched his head. It was quiet. There was barely any noise and the block had lost its tense air while people helped the man.
We were paddling a canoe down the Potomac. A man stood waist high in the water in the middle of the wide stream at a bend in the river. He waved us back away from the shore to the opposite side, the far end of the turn in the river’s path. We stopped our canoe. Chainsaw noises in the woods along the water. A giant oak tree collapsed in a thunderous twist of wood. The enormous tree fell intact to the water and the ripples from the felled beast rocked our boat. The river flowed around it and the man in the water waded into shore. We paddled on.