The Oak Tree

There used to be a big oak tree leading to the house where I grew up. It was broad and thick, but didn’t overreach. It just was. It marked the end of a long driveway, along a road with many such driveways, so when we directed someone to the house, we always said, “turn into the driveway with the big oak tree, and go all the way to the end.”

They cut down the tree a few years after we stopped living there. I think the city said they had to. My aunt and uncle still lived on the same property, and later my grandparents too. So I had to turn up that same driveway, which felt all wrong without the tree. I didn’t know how to give directions anymore, either. I started to say, “turn when you see an empty space where there should be a tree.”

I couldn’t see the place any other way.