I lay down against the fresh soil, still chilly and damp. I brushed the dirt off of my hands and relaxed my eyes. The wispy yellow petals ticked my brow bone as if they were trying to soothe me. I rolled onto my back and bent my knees upward feeling my spine cracking as I lay flat. Each breath is getting tighter and I think my throat is clenching up. While I am reclined above his fragile little body the wind blows gently shaking the buds grasping onto tree limbs above both of us. I want to tear the grass up and dig into the Earth to retrieve him. I just want to touch his soft, fluffy face and stroke his long whiskers. I hope that the perennials I planted are caressing his sweet body with their loving roots. My wispy baby hairs are whipping my cheeks and sticking to their damped surface. “I promise to take care of your garden, Bubby.”