Orange blossoms used to be the sweetest scent

and grew to make me happy.

My grandma used to have a tree in her yard

and every morning I awoke to the sweet aroma

with my feet in dew soaked grass.

My grandpa had planted the tree just before he died.

He said that it would be enjoyed more than roses

and would stand longer as a statement of his love.

When my mom was pregnant with me,

she craved oranges and ate crates of them.

Then I was born

and my grandfather died.

I used to be allowed to climb the tree

until I was six years old

and the rain flooded the soil

and I slipped and broke my ankle

and my grandmother died.

The tree produced oranges

But they weren't as sweet.

The tree wilted

and withered

and died.

And my mother planted a sapling to show her love for

Me.