As I lie on the cold, dewy avocado grass upon the slightly frosted soil, I ponder on the fun times I had as a kid. My mom and I would hike up the hill every weekend, with sweat pouring down our faces. Her soft hands would hold mine up the steep parts with enough protection that I know she cared. When we completed the task we would stand on top of the mountain, and look at our days work. Sometimes depending on when we headed out I could see the sunset or sunrise. Then I started to cry as I remembered all the fun times I had with her before she passed away. Always thinking of her fills my soul with deep sorrow. Then I started walking to the waterfall. As I reached it I lay my face ion the cold, damp surface and began to talk to her. She once told me that if you play in the water, then look in the sky it would just carry you away. It was always so magical, as a little kid I remember me imagining running through the stars and playing tag with the comets. My mom made everything seem possible. Now that she was gone, all the magic faded. Just for old times’ sake I ran through the waterfall, and fell hard on rocks. A shot pierced through my back and I felt excruciating pain, but I didn’t care because I was laughing so hard. I found the happy times, and there I was drifting on the crusading clouds with my mom. I felt as if I were a little girl again.”