在那棵山毛榉倒下以前,我们以为自己会难舍它的树荫;而失去它之后,我们惊奇地发现,原来阳光是那么地美。
The first time I saw the tree was when my husband, Tim, dragged me to look at a run-down house he saw listed on a real estate agent’s website.[1] As this was one of his hobbies, I was used to it. It was an icy night and he had to cajole[2] me out of the car. The tree stood off to the side, but I was so distracted by the decrepit nature of the house and Tim’s can-do smile that I only glanced at the looming presence, registering Big Tree Off to Left.[3]
Tim’s can-do smile turned into a purchase and a 13-month renovation. Well, an overhaul[4]. Most of those 13 months we spent inside tackling tedious decisions like what shade of white we should paint the walls.[5] Neighbors strolled[6] by to check our progress but seemed less interested in the house and more in the fate of the tree. “What’s happening with the tree?” asked one. And another, “My kids grew up playing on that tree. I hope you’re going to keep it.” I sensed a slight nervousness, even hostility, in their questions. Did they think we might cut it down for a driveway[7], or maybe even a three-car garage?
I added these perceived reproaches[8] to the many reasons why I thought we had made a mistake buying this house. Stuffy town, nosy neighbors.[9] I hoped that if I accumulated enough complaints we might finally pack up and leave Massachusetts, returning to New York City. I had been perfectly content in our Upper West Side[10] building with 49 apartments and neighbors to chat with in the elevator. OK, not the crazy lady with all of the cats. But, with more than 10 children our children’s ages, we never wanted for play-dates or community.[11] And trick-or-treating[12] was so efficient.
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