And I was in the middle of making a mental list of all the things I was going to show my father when I heard a noise below.
I looked down, and parked right beneath me were two trucks. Big trucks.
One of them was towing a long, empty trailer, and the other had a cherry picker on it—
the kind they use to work on overhead power lines and telephone poles.
There were four men standing around talking, drinking from thermoses, and I almost called down to them,
“I’m sorry, but you can’t park there…. That’s a bus stop!”
But before I could, one of the men reached into the back of a truck and started unloading tools.
Gloves. Ropes. A chain. Earmuffs. And then chain saws. Three chain saws.
And still I didn’t get it. I kept looking around for what it was they could possibly be there to cut down.
Then one of the kids who rides the bus showed up and started talking to them, and pretty soon he was pointing up at me.
One of the men called, “Hey! You better come down from there. We gotta take this thing down.”
I held on to the branch tight, because suddenly it felt as though I might fall. I managed to choke out, “The tree?”
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