I climb the hill in my blue Frozen high heels. The high heels I begged my mother for. I look at my worn-out shoes as I stop at the tree. I’m wearing a black dress, the same dress I wore last week. I love dresses because they make me feel like a princess maybe Cinderella or Belle. But not in this dress. This dress is black and none of the princesses wear black dresses. 

“Your dress is so pretty, Lucy.” My mom smiled as tears rolled down her face. 

I noticed my mom finally smile for the first time in what seemed like a whole month. I look around and see my family holding boxes of tissues and their hands tucked deep in their pockets like they were holding on to something that they didn’t want to let go. I don’t cry like they are. I’m a big girl is what I tell my family all the time when they mention me being naive. I don’t know what that means even but it sounds negative. 

“Today we are gathered here to celebrate the lives of…” the priest said while everyone winced with fear like they were scared to hear the truth. 

I don’t remember what the priest is talking about but I hear big words like, “They will be greatly missed” or “Ashes Scattered”. It's like he was speeching a foreign language. My mom and two of my aunts go up and tip over a jar. They call it an urn but it's a jar. They sprinkle this gravel-like mixture on the tree that was surrounded by flowers. The gravel looked like they got it from a construction site. Maybe the driveway. I look up at the tree that has been alive throughout my whole life. My grandparents and I would look out the kitchen window above the sink. My grandma would point it out when a bird would land on the tree. I giggled because the sun would shine on the bird and the bird looked relaxed like it was in its final resting state. 

--- 

The morning had risen and I woke with the tv blaring the news. I forgot my grandparents woke up so early.  I look at the clock and realize it's eight. I step over my mom and brother and quickly raced down the steps. The comforting room was painted dark green and pictures from my mom's childhood hung on the wall. My grandpa was holding his coffee as he sit in the red recliner. My grandma sat on the couch as the HGTV talked about the weather. I went to the kitchen with the pretty wallpaper, and pull my four-foot-tall body up and slide onto the counter. The sippy cups were in the cabinet next to the sink. I open the creaky door and grab my favorite mug, it has Dora the Explorer and Diego on it. My eyes wander to the big window above the sink. There lies a tree that sparkles with the sun and nurtures the songbirds.  

“That's your grandfather’s and my favorite tree,” my grandma’s voice rings through my ears as I jump at the scare. 

“You scared me, grandma.” My grandma began to laugh as a smile grew big on my face. She started walking with her flowery cane toward me to assist me from the counter. She hates when I climb up on the counters. I look pensively out the window as she wobbles over to me. “Why is it your favorite?” 

“The tree?” I nod in response. She breathes in and grows a few inches. I look down to see she's standing on her tippy toes. “That tree has been there since your grandfather had been alive. See that house right next to the tree.” She pointed with her wrinkly right finger to point at the old raggy house. “Your grandpa was born and raised there. He would venture out and sit under that tree and read or just sit there. Now we have watched it ever since. When your grandfather grew, so did the tree. So we watch it expand and grow every day. We notice the songbirds and squirrels making homes in it. However, the tree is starting to die. But we will still love the tree even after it's gone.” She wanders toward the refrigerator still limping. She pulls out the low-fat milk. “Here, let's pour you some milk.” 

I gently slide off the tall counters and hand my grandma my cup. I look out the window one more time and notice the leaves breaking off the branches. Hopefully, the tree will live a while longer.  

If I would have paid attention to anything my mom told me about how everything must come to an end, I would have loved my time more. 

---

It’s been 170 days. 

I can’t believe it’s been that long since I stood in the same place. Except, there are about 5 more inches of snow than there had been. The forest behind the land had sunk with the pressure from the snow on its branches. I shiver with the wind swirling through my golden hair. 

I look around the land as I walk up the steep hill. The footprints that follow me are bigger than they had been last year. I want it to be 2013 again. Where nothing had changed and I was just starting daycare. If I could’ve just known what was coming, I would have respected the time more. 

I walk to the vintage trunk and look behind. The branches are now wrapped around me like a greeting hug. I feel warmth throughout my frozen body and I wrap my padded arms around the smooth soft tree. The accord tree makes me reminiscent of these greeting hugs with my grandparents. My grandpa would wait on the porch and wait until my car made a complete stop. He would open the van door and take me out of my seat. He would hug me and whisper, “I missed you so much.” 

I let go because I knew the tree won’t be warm forever. I look back down and see my footprints that started from the classic house that belonged to my great-grandmother. I can see my mom starting to put boxes of garbage in the car and I know I don’t have long before I have to drive away again and don’t know when I’m going to come back. 

I looked back at the tree as the car engine started and knew it was time to say goodbye. I didn’t want to because even though many think I'm naive, I’m not stupid. We finished cleaning out my great-grandma’s house and it was time to say goodbye. I never actually thought we could get rid of all the cobwebs and dust. I always thought we would have a reason to come to the land. First to visit my grandparents, then to clean out and sell their house, my childhood. It was finally time to say goodbye and I didn’t think we would say goodbye. I grew up where grandparents were alive, where they would come to your soccer games, where they celebrate every milestone with you and you would always have a place to go for holidays. Now everything has changed. 

“Lucy, Come on. We have to go home,” my mom hollered from the car door as she gently began to slide into her heated seat. 

I closed my eyes as I let out a deep breath. A breath that contained all my memories of my grandparents. The same grandparents that would hug me when I fell down the stairs. The same ones that would hold my hand when we would cross the street. The love wrapped up in the memories swirl in the air as my breath is no longer seen in the bright sky. 

“Goodbye,” the word that took all my strength to say. The word that I had trouble saying when I would leave their house. I word I couldn’t say at both of their funerals or scattering their ashes. 

I tear rolled down my now cold cheek as I turned toward the house. I picked up my heavy feet and control them to move. I walked down the precipitous hill and followed my past footsteps to my car. I opened the door and slide in. My mom put the car in neutral and moved toward the road. I layed my head against the passenger window. 

I never looked back. More tears would have appeared if I did. I swallow my own guilt to this day as I knew I should’ve looked back. That was the last time the tree stood tall. The tree began to slump after I left. My grandparents have died and so is their tree. 

---

It’s been a decade since everything went to the trash. 

I’m in high school now and not in kindergarten. I’m always watching the tv sitcom Friends, and not Cinderella. I do my work in pen instead of crayons. I listen to pop music and not Kidz Bop. I’m growing up and I’m not a kid anymore.

And my family is aging with me. My great aunts have died and left my great uncle lonely. In a few years, who knows where anyone is going to be? However, the loss of my grandparents still hits home to this day. 

The tree was cut down a couple of years ago. The land belongs to my mom’s cousin, but he’s not going to live forever. The land that had belonged to my great grandma then to my grandparents, may never belong to us anymore. The place I grew up in may never be ours again. 

I haven’t been to the root of where the tree had blossomed ever since they ripped it down. I think about my grandparents every day but losing the tree made me realize that they’re really gone. Like they're never coming back. I have learned to accept it now but it feels like a piece of my heart has been stabbed by a sword and never pulled out. 

I have a favorite tree that stands tall right outside my living room window. And sometimes when a songbird lands on a branch, I think of my grandparents. Maybe they came to check up on my family and me. 

As I look at the bird, I can’t help but whisper, “I love you.” 

The bird chirps in response and a smile appear on my face as it feels like the sword has been pulled out of my heart.