Okay, Bodhi and I began a new school year and Bodhi is in a new classroom, mine, and we both have very turbulent feelings about it. He is having a hard time adapting to the rhythm, transitions and newly defined role of student/teacher/son/mom. I too am feeling ambivalent, uncertain if this is the best choice for my son/student. The classroom is looking beautiful and the students began arriving this week. There is a lot of NEW in our lives right now.
Yes, I know it doesn't look like much. It was only about 5 inches in diameter and 8 feet tall. The root ball was no more than 3 feet deep. But it was a sweet red-bud tree that we planted the year Bodhi was born, his placenta was buried in it's roots and like many of the trees in our neighborhood, it died (see this post to understand why) . I can't say that I mourned its death in a tangible way, rather it produced in me a sort of unnameable melancholy. I am a woman who loves the spring. I nearly live for it. When the first signs of life emerge like a haze of hope, I drink in green with the passion of a desert crawling woman sipping at an oasis. I gorge. This year has been hard. Our neighborhood isn't leafing out in native splendor, instead the tired trees seem to begrudge the effort, only offering a tender shoot or bud occasionally. The north side of many trees appear to have given up all together, too tired after a long winter...
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