I have a plan, I went into town and bought three trees. I will continue to write here and in the end I will have forged through all the men I have farmed and a tree for each will shade my final resting place.
I have decided on a hardy weeping cherry, for Joe and Mitzi, I will plant them first.
I took my first step off the back porch this morning taking in all that this land has to give I see nothing, there wasn't just few tree but no trees, no hills, no garden only a small pond and flat land... it is all ours. A fence lies in the distance to mark the acre and outside I have to walk to bury Mitzi, in my right hand I held an urn, in my left a tiny seedling that will grow to remind me everyday how our lives were destined.
In a hole I dug with my own hands I place Mitzi's urn, and my first tree only four inches tall filling in the wound in the earth, I feel in someway a closure. As I bowed down on my knees and took my first hand of soil, I smelt it and close my eyes, it was unreal to me how sweet the earth can smell and how bitter it feels to rape of it. This is where Mitzi will be happy, and upon my request Joe will come as well to rest here and we will be buried together, beneath the canopy of our past.