I took the long way to Nana’s, giving myself a tour of my hometown before leaving. Our family didn’t do much of that—leaving, I mean. Taylor had gone to join the AirForce, but that was years ago, and we hadn’t heard from her since. She could be in a ditch for all I knew. I wasn’t my sister, though, no matter how much I’d wanted to be like her when we were younger. No, instead, I’d found a way to leave without abandoning my family, and I was excited about it.
I pulled off the main road and onto a dirt patch on the edge of Nana’s property. Her house was always where we got together for holidays, birthdays, Fridays, you name it: it was our family home. And it was gorgeous. My grandma always had a green thumb and therefore a beautiful garden, complete with daisies and forget-me-nots lining the path to her front door.
The only part I hated was the creepy trees along the fence. At first it was just one, but a second showed up a few years ago, and I couldn’t help but wonder why she bothered keeping them. For starters, the trees were always barren: I’d never seen so much as a leaf on any of them. And after some storm had blown them over, the branches bobbed in the wind and looked like they were trying to claw their way from their roots. I shuddered and turned my attention back to the flowers. As I made it to the porch, Nana flung the door open and pulled me into a hug.
“Look at you!” she said, beaming. “Coming to say goodbye to your old Nana.” She gripped me tightly—I was constantly blown away by how strong she was. “You go ahead and sit on down.” She motioned to the chairs on the porch. “I’ll put on some tea.”
I obliged, taking in the view in front of me. I noticed how fresh things seemed despite how long she’d had this house. No nails sticking out of the floorboards on the porch, a bright coat of paint on the siding, clean gutters. After my sister left, Nana threw herself into freshening the place up to keep her mind off Taylor being gone. She was spry like that and had done a hell of a job.
She came back out and placed the tea set between us. “I’ve got some new herbs from the garden, so I hope you like it,” she said, clearly trying not to sound heartbroken. She began pouring and paused. “Are you sure you have to go?” she pleaded.
“Nana,” I sighed. Not again. “It’s only two hours away. I’ll be back for long weekends and between semesters.”
She shook her head as she finished pouring and handed me my cup. “You know, I just don’t think I can live without my family nearby. You’re what makes this place feel alive.”
“I promise I’ll be back so quick you won’t even have time to miss me,” I assured her. “Besides, someone’s gotta kick your butt at gin rummy every now and then.”
She chuckled at that. “I suppose you’ll always be here one way or another,” she conceded.
I squeezed her hand and finished my tea, scarfing it down so I wouldn’t have to taste it too much. I usually loved her tea blends, but this one honestly just tasted like dirt and old tree bark.
“I do need help with one more thing.” She got up before I could respond and began walking to the fence, right by the creepy trees. She stopped at a wide hole in the ground. “I need you to help me fill it.”
The trees bobbed and creaked in the breeze, emitting an uncanny moaning sound that made me want to be anywhere but here. As nimble as she was, I didn’t think she needed my help. And I was starting to feel stiff anyway.
“Nana, maybe someone else—”
“I just need you to do one more thing for me before you leave forever.”
I rolled my eyes. “A guilt trip. Nice.” I looked around. “You got a shovel?”
“You’ll have to go in there and get it.”
I groaned and hopped into the hole. “There’s no shovel in here,” I whined, getting ready to climb out.
It was only about waist deep, but suddenly I was stuck, my foot trapped under the root of the tree next to me. I bent over to lift it, but as soon as I touched it, I heard Taylor’s voice through the moan of the trees.
“RUN.”
I fell back. I was still stuck, and now I was even stiffer than before, unable to turn from side to side.
“Nana,” I gasped. “I need help.”
“I need you to stay,” she declared, face suddenly stern. I watched as my grandma picked up a shovel she’d hidden and thrust it into the earth. She began weeping as she threw the soil at my feet.
“Nana, what are you doing?” I sputtered, coughing up dirt.
“I already told you, sweet pea, you’ll always be here in one way or another.”
I tried crying out again, but no sound came out—just more dirt. Everything inside me tightened. And then shrank. Buried up to my waist, I could only scream internally as my body solidified into a trunk. My arms became branches and my fingers twigs. I made one more attempt at clawing my way out, but my branches just bobbed in the wind. Below the soil, Taylor’s roots intertwined with mine. We sobbed, or at least tried to.
Down the driveway, new rows of forget-me-nots sprouted up as daisies bloomed with no regard for time. Nana used the shovel to tamp down the soil around me.
“Family is what makes this place feel alive.”
