I step out on my large front porch and stand, slowing down inside. Leaves swish in the breeze as a bird swoops by. A squirrel scampers up the huge trunk of a dying maple tree. Dry leafless branches above reveal the decline. Yet it still sends out hungry tongues of green leaves to gather sun.

Later, perched on my seat by the third-floor window I gaze out over the trees and houses. I abide here especially early in the morning. The quiet is palpable, yet ethereal, comforting.

I knew the end would come for this tree, yet it is home to so many, in part because it is dying and there are safe places inside. Then one day as I walk up the sidewalk to my front steps I look down and see a small crack in the thick root by the sidewalk. I take a closer look snap a photo, then go inside. The next day I notice it again and take another photo. The crack is larger!

Timing is in my favor and a tree man makes a point of coming out, after seeing my photos.

Oh” he says. “Yes, it is leaning."
He moves around to examine from all angles.
“It’s time,” he says. I nod, knowing
After pondering he decides that Wednesday in two days, is the day. Then he pauses, puts finger to his chin, looks at me sideways and says,
“I’ll send my crew tomorrow."
He starts to walk away, then turns back.
"Are you a light sleeper?"
"Yes..." I say, eyes widening.
"Well call me if you hear anything overnight."
"OK, sure!" gulp.

The tree does not crack further in the night. I tiptoe out in the early morning darkness and put a stick of incense in her rough gray bark. Then I offer my gratitude. I put my hands on the steady trunk and look up. This tree extends way into the dark sky. I think of all the 80+ years she has been standing here diligent, with fortitude and steadiness. I am grateful, sad and I know this is right. It’s time.

The men come in the morning, set up a crane and a truck to catch the chopped-up wood. There is a wiry man with leg protectors a helmet, a belt of tools strapped to his waist. When I come out a little later, he is dangling from the crane way above, throwing a rope around a huge branch. A team member waits for him at the base of that branch, handing him a large chain saw.

He cuts all the way through this thick branch. The rope catches it and the whole thing dangles in the air. My mouth is agape. I flash through times of dramatic change in my life. Sometimes it is time for new perspectives, for letting go.

When it is all cut down, there's the expansive stump. i see two tiny gray shapes on top of it, baby squirrels. Their eyes are closed yet they are breathing. A brawny guy from the team sees me and comes over.

"They were right there. The mom is already building a new nest,"
He exclaims, gesturing to a large tulip poplar tree.
"What about cats?" I say. "They are barely bigger than mice!"
"I'll make a nest for them." he says. "The mom will come and get them once we all leave."
He cuts a circle of log with a chainsaw, fills it with leaves and gently places the babies, eyes still closed, inside on top of the stump. He is so gentle.

A little while later the crew packs up and leaves. I go out for half an hour. When I return the babies are gone. Momma came to get them. Days later she perches just outside my office window chirping at me and cracking a walnut with her tough teeth. I guess she's letting me know all is ok.

The tree stayed here by the house for over 80 years. Then, it was done. I sit on the porch with a different view. Squirrels born there now can grow in nearby trees and the cycles continue. In the space left by the tree I see the house shining anew.
When it’s time, it is time.