Many thousands of years ago, I put up a basketball hoop for my sons. This is amazing when I think about it because I am not a handyman. In any way, shape, form or manner. Blood droplets assemble on my brow when you put a tool in my hand.
I'm sure Carol helped me. On the rare occasions when I do attempt a project, I am the laborer, she is the supervisor. But still, I am amazed that I/we got it done.
Walked outside this week on one of these magnificently, surprising, March days and the hoop caught my eye. The branches of a tree have grown all around it, so now it looks like an ancient tribute to the sport of basketball.
I was overwhelmed by the deafening silence of my dog not barking and my sons not playing.
It means something that a tree has grown around the hoop. Tress are life. The hoop was one life, the tree is another.
I was once surrounded by life. I am still surrounded by life.
It's just that the sound is different now.
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