Moving can be uncomfortable

So can saying goodbye to redwoods...

We perched on the edge of the Russian River in California, which the Native Americans call Ashokawna, or “river to the East” for five years, straddling the Pacific to our home in Hawaii.

I blinked, and the time passed between when we moved there to assist with Mike’s mother’s end of life and her passage into the next one.

The five redwoods that grew up through the deck and held our little red cabin to the steep bank I named the Ent Lords. All five were “shoots” that grew from the stump of the mighty One that was first logged, leaving a hole in the center, a “fairy ring“ from which they’d sprung. Even so, together the trees were mighty, and I loved sheltering under their swishing branches.

 When my nerves were a-jangle, (which was often) I would take a beach towel outside and curl into the middle of the fairy ring, and feel nameless ease.

There …