It was easy to feel small while laying in the tall grass. The purple daisies swayed in the light breeze, tall as trees above her wet eyes. She could stay there forever, in the sunny smell of hay and wildflowers. This field was the most comfortable place she knew.

She had spent most of her childhood days in this same field, lavender-colored with flowers and soft even on bare feet. Games of hide and seek, tag. Her first kiss was in the same wildflowers under a crystal night sky, fragrant with the smell of coming rain. Her first dog was buried out here under the oak tree. Her mother was buried under the cottonwood.

A blade of grass tickled her nose. She brushed it and a stray tear from her face. It seemed somehow right that things should end here, where everything began. It seemed complete to be back where she had spent most of her life. It felt like the perfect turn of a season. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.