The modestly great mulberry tree that grew in my grandparent’s backyard is in some of my deepest-rooted memories. It now exists as live edge woodwork products. I remember the tree much like I view the family in the picture my father took above. My family. Happy and carefree enough to sway with the wind, supported sufficiently to grow in any which way, solid enough to always be.

I was partially raised in the house with that tree which partly explains why it holds special significance to me. More than being raised in that house, my grandmother babysat me as I grew up in the house with that tree. My grandfather takes credit for teaching me how to walk under that tree. My brothers, cousins, and I all swung from a swing that hung from that tree (that I also hoarded for future work). My brothers, cousins, and I climbed the tree, found Easter eggs hidden in that tree, and dared each other to see who could go higher in that tree. We would see how far out we could go on the longest branch. We fell from that tree and scraped up the skin of all our joints on that tree’s bark. We had our spots up in that tree where we would go to just sit with our imaginations. We sat under that tree and used its shade to hide from the sun on those hot summer days when family gatherings were held outside.

Moreover, it holds special significance for me as it is the first tree I cut down. As adults, my older brother and I lived in the house with that tree for a couple years after college. The tree had been dead for several years before I moved to the house. It needed to be cut down to make space for other backyard additions, and I decided to have a hand at it myself.