A Peek Behind the Curtain

I live in North Carolina, but in my heart, Florida will always be home.

Not that there’s anything wrong with NC; the people are lovely, there are beaches  and mountains only 2-3 hours away; there’s a change of seasons. After 28 years in the Old North State, a fire in the fireplace is still a novelty.

But like spawning salmon who instinctively want to get back to their home waters, I often feel the tug of my home state. I can be there in six hours. But my kids are here, their roots are here, they’ll likely never leave. So likely, neither will my me or my wife.

So, many years ago, I added a little Florida to our yard by way of a bald cypress tree. I planted Charlie the Cypress tree 50 feet away from our new house, fertilized him, watered him, built a little wall around his base and filled it with mulch.

Like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, Charlie flourished. I noticed as I cut the grass that his trunk grew wider and wider. He eventually towered over the other trees and what once seemed like a safe distance for a tiny sapling, fifty feet seemed to be uncomfortably close for grown-up Charlie.

Cypress roots travel along underground, then pop up into what are called knees. One day, my wife calls me outside. I see cypress knees pushing up around the HVAC slab, 70 or 80 feet away. Uh oh.

I tried to dig down and sever the problematic roots, but as fast as I severed one, another one would appear. Charlie would have to come down; the foundation could be jeopardized.

I couldn’t stand to watch the tree folks do their thing last Fall, but afterwards I stood over the stump with sadness. I counted the rings; twenty. It was two decades ago that I planted him, two decades that flew by in a glorious kaleidoscope of kids being born and raised, vacations, birthdays and Christmases. It all went by so fast.

Today’s blog prompt asks where I’ll be in half that time.

Hopefully, playing with my grandkids, still strumming my guitar, traveling, charity work, surfing, enjoying the fruits of my working years. 

But in reality, no clue. Only God knows, and He has mercifully shielded that knowledge from me.

“We all end up dead; it’s just a question of how and why.” ~ William Wallace, Braveheart