One continuous round...

...at least that's what I've been told. You know, the whole circle of life thing...birth...life...death...and then another birth. I've always believed it, but with the grinding of a chainsaw and a great quake of the earth I had the past 14 circles of life before my eyes.

Literally...circles!

We had a death in the family last week. A good friend. He was there 24/7. Watching us and watching over us. Making the cold, windy days more bearable and the hot, humid days enjoyable. He's gone now, but our family took time to note his passing and talk about his 16 years of life. We only knew him for 14 years though, because he came into our lives as a scrawny, leafless 2 year old.

The day we brought him home, the man who had been charge of his life up to that point, told us all we thought we needed to know. Protect him, give him food and water and he will give you much more in return. He did.

He forgave us when Michael kicked him with a soccer ball and took off a branch or Matthew got overly excited with the pruning shears, leaving a slighly odd shape on one side. For a time we had a rope swing hanging from one of his lower branches. Few people came to our home without giving it a tug or taking a little swing. Last summer Preston was strong enough to climb the rope and slap the rough branch bulging around the old knot.

Time was good to the old cottonwood, for a time, but then, as time does with all of us, it caught up with him. He was infected with disease and the last snow storm had left him branchless on the south side. It was sad.

...and so the chainsaw man came, sized him up, hooked a chain around him and put him out of his misery.

This is all that remains...

but wait, look closely, do you see them? Do you see the rings?

There's the ring the first year we planted him. We have a picture of Matthew, Andy and Mike with the fishing stuff loaded in the boat heading out for one last excursion before Andy headed to Mongolia for 2 years. And there he is in the background, just a broomstick of a tree, but you could see him. Of course, he was there when Andy got home two years later in October. He was bigger, the tree, not Andy, because Andy was skinny as a rail.

I have another picture of Lauren and D. building a snowman family, he's in that picture too. He's in pictures of Preston riding his bike for the first time, Madison pushing Abbie on my old tricycle and Luke...(I mean Superman) cape fluttering in the wind, hanging from the rope. We have pictures of Carlee, Emry, Sammie, Porter and Luke eating popsicles in his shade.

Looking at the rings, Matthew and I could see the history of the past 15 years. My dad, Debbie and Susanne each have a ring. The kids graduated, went on missions and got married. They each have a ring and some rings have many names written on them. The birth of Preston, Madison, Abbie, Porter, Luke, Carlee, Sammie, Emry, Tessa, Cameron, Millie Jo, and baby Logan are written there.

The years of service, Bishop, Relief Society President, Stake Relief Society President, temple sealings, and the last thing I saw as I headed down the street at 5:45 a.m. for seminary are all represented in the rings.

The small things too...summer evenings on the front porch, Mike, covered with paint after white-washing the V, planting flowers, mowing and mowing more, pushing grandkids in the swing, shoveling snow, raking leaves, flying kites, even a few fishing lures were lost in his branches due to the practice casts in the street.

He is gone. All that is left is his stump and our memories of him.

...I vow to plant another tree this summer, somewhere, for our grandchildren. Someday they may stand around its stump, count the circles and talk about the memories they have of us, our family, together.

The circles continue...