Perhaps, because it is just past Easter, and perhaps because the hyacinths have come up and have now past their peaks; perhaps because it is the end of April, and perhaps because it is so close to May, which is even closer to June.
I don't know. All I know is that I have an image of my grandparents' backyard that I cannot shake, where the apple tree has blossoms on it, their tulips are up, and the pine trees along the back and sprouting new tiny tips.
Except, my grandparents are gone, and someone else lives there. I haven't seen the apple tree in years, but I know it needed serious taking care of, and I doubt that they have. I know the tulips are gone, because their cat dug them up. The hydrangeas that got to be as tall as my shoulders are gone, and the beautiful birch tree with the ivy is gone too.
What hurts is the pine trees. My grandparents planted a pine tree in their back garden for each grand child. When I was born, they planted a blue spruce, the only one that was different from the rest. My tree was always bluish, and smaller than the rest, and I loved it.
It actually hurts my heart to know that tree is gone. It may seem silly, but sometimes there are depths to things.
I would have loved for my grandparents to know I am graduating law school. My grandpa would have smiled and shook his head, and said, "Hoooo, boy." My grandma would have relieved that I wasn't an ambulance chaser, and would have loved that I am going into children's law.
I want to swing by their place when I am home, but I think that might be more pain than memory.
I want to take a piece of their ivy from the garden, but I am not sure there is anything left for me to take.
Our Best Highest Selves
4 days ago