Our car comes to a stop and I push open the heavy door of my moms suburban. I step out of the car and the blood quickly seeps down my legs into my feet, they are awake. The pavement is hot and dry as my bare feet connect with the ground. The breeze blows onto my face while the sun pounds it. The tall grass sings to me while the tall mountains around me call my name. I walk on the pavement ignoring my family chatting about who gets to bring in the suitcases. I don’t care about that. I care about the cool grass I am inching towards. “Squish Squish” I have met the moist grass. I let out a sigh of relief, finally, I am back. Back to Montana. I missed the smell of the air and the taste of the nature but I am still missing my favorite part of this place. My Grandma, I wish she would pop through the door of her house with a warm and inviting smile. She never will.

I can’t keep ignoring my responsibilities and tread back to the car. I haul my heavy suitcase case out of the car. Jeez, what did I put in here? I roll my suitcase across the hot and dry pavement and we reach the steps together. I creak the door open and step into my grandma's atrium. The hints of the lavender she keeps in the greenhouse reach me. It is a comforting smell. It reminds me of our sushi dates together where we would indulge in one two many spicy tuna rolls laughing on the couch together. I am here though at her house, no lights are on and the sunlight seeps in through the floor to ceiling windows. It’s like a Pinterest photo, surreal.  My Grandmas house has never been this empty. After she passed her dog was sent to a pet smart two hours away. I don’t know what to do. My brain aches, the concept of never seeing her ever again lingers. My feelings are like a whirlwind of emotions. I just want some fresh air. The extraordinary mountains sneak into the view of every window. I need to go and see them. I leave my bag stranded in the living room. 

My family is still standing by the car taking their time to unpack and clean the car. It’s like they do not care about the beautiful scenery surrounding them. I want to go and explore! I get my sister to come with me and she is ready! The gator was my grandma's favorite thing. We would take rides to the barn and ride her horses. The engine shakes. “Let’s goooo” My sister says as she sits down in the gator. The clouds are changing though. They rapidly are getting darker, like a cold and brisk day in winter with very few hours of light. The sun is still shining though, it is like a canvas with deep grays being lit by a warm lamp. We traverse the miles of hill and mountains on a rocky path my grandfather laid down. There are no houses in sight, just the endless plains of possibility. Plains that one day could be filled with industrial buildings and tall skyscrapers. When we found out that an industrial building company was buying some land near my Grandma's house it was putting a nail in the coffin. Her kingdom of land was being invaded and she was not here to pull the drawbridge up. The world is changing, but not on its own terms.

“I miss her” I let out in a short breath. My sister's expressions change. “Me Too” She starts crying and so do I. The rainstorm is just starting. We embrace and cry in the middle of the endless dirt road.

I miss my Grandma so much, I had to say I love you one last time over the phone. I felt like a mouse surrounded by feral cats for a while, trapped and scared. She died on a day people will remember forever, but not because my grandma was sent to heaven. She died the day after my 12th Birthday. May 25th, 2020. George Floyd died that day. Everyone knows his name, everyone remembers him. My Grandma is not known by everyone but I will make it my job to remember her name, Marney. It was hard seeing my Mom try and look happy on my birthday, we all knew the day was almost here. Somehow though in my Grandma's last few hours she found a way to text me “Happy Birthday Bub! I love you so much”

The wind pounds against my cold face and sharpens my dried tears. The gator was really working. My sisters voice sounded like when you hum in front of a box fan.The cows moo as we drive past their land. The birds sing as if they are trying to impress their next mate. The distinct smell of rain ready to let go in the world lingers as we drive. The field is our destination. My sister sneezes and it is the only noise, it almost echoes through the tall grass that is singing its quiet melody as it sways like a ballerina. 

The field is so peaceful. The gator stops its rampage and we are met by silence. There is a rotting fence that has not been touched in years and we hurl our bodies over the fence. Time slows as I take in my surroundings. The snow capped mountains blend with the deep clouds behind them. The grass is lit with the setting sun. It’s golden hour.  I feel great, I have found my moment of peace. The sun still shines bright and the clouds are still dark. It’s like the perfect way to represent who I am. The world will keep moving just like the tall grass in the field. It is time I accept that enjoying every moment with people is a very special thing. My grandma passed while we were locked away from the world. A time when I spend more time on my phone than being outside. I have learned that my Grandma was able to find somewhere that makes her happy. She loved Montana, the grass, the mountains, the blue sky, the white snow. She taught me a lesson, I need to find somewhere that makes me happy so I can enjoy every minute of it. Because one day I will have grandkids and children and I want to teach them to be like my Gran.

The gator ride home is way shorter. The sun is setting and night is seeping into the world. The rain storm was just starting that night. My family steps outside carrying my Grandma with us. She always loved the lake. So we would keep her there. As we released her into the lake it started pouring. Everyone was crying, except for my mom… “ She will always be happy here! In a place she loves.”

My family gathers together at the dinner table and we are having skyline. There is a somber feeling in the air but smiles still arouse all around. The warm chili mixed with the crunchy onions is delicious. Skyline was my Grandma's favorite. Once a month I would pack up a box of skyline, in a can and ship it to her. After realizing my Grandma loved this place everyone was happier. We laughed together all remembering her.  

I am going to miss our sushi dates, and sending her skyline but I know she is swimming around with fish she has raised. I know she is having the best time having a new and strong body.I have learned so much about myself and my Grandma. Time will never stop and if you can find somewhere like a random field in Montana then maybe you can learn a lot about yourself.