The two trees in front of my Pine Grove window are bare of fall foilage and color. The branches are naked, vulnerable, frail. The City of Chicago plans on cutting them down by springtime. I'm strong enough to witness and emotionally deal with their demise. I did it with my lovely father at that time in his life.
"You have the understanding now to move in direction you wish," the ancient, wise Chinese man said.
I bowed my head in agreement.
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