But I force myself to look at images that have formed in my mind and bubbled to the surface, catching me while I take a walk or wash the dishes. A decade of a steady stream of these scenes have created neural pathways that cannot be erased. Now the steady erosion snaking through my brain and heart feels like the grand canyon.

I first noticed the tree almost a year ago in the meadow near the pond. It was hard to miss, a singular graceful presence amidst native huckleberry, scrub oaks, and spring wildflowers.