There is a little girl, no more than six or seven years of age. She is kicking her legs, begging her father to get her out of her car seat faster. As soon as her father lifts her out of the seat and sets her on the ground, she takes off running as fast as her short legs will take her. Her grandparents are waiting for her on the porch. She jumps into her grandpa’s arms as her grandma remarks about how tall she’s getting. The air is crisp and her grandpa’s arms are warm and there is more room for the little girl to play than she could ever dream of. Their house is on a hill and at the bottom is a drop-off that falls into the lake. The trees that surround them are all different hues of red, orange, and yellow save for the few evergreens that sprinkle the area. The little girl has waited weeks to come back here and ‘run like the wind’ as her grandpa puts it, but she has to wait. Her grandparents will want to catch up and ask her about the school, what she’s going to be for Halloween, and other things that have been going on in her life, so she must hold off. “It’s okay,” she thinks, “I have all the time in the world”.

 Christmas has come and gone. The hill is now covered in a soft blanket of snow and there is a nip in the air. The little girl’s nose is turning red from the cold, but she couldn’t care less. The only thing that matters to her is sledding down the hill faster than she did before. Her little sister is barely over a year old, too young to play with her, but she doesn’t mind. Playing alone or playing with others, makes no difference to the girl. Playing is playing. 

 As she is trying to make her way up the hill, the molasses thick snow inhibiting her every step, she thinks ‘this is it, this will be the fastest one yet. With this hill, you have to know exactly when to jump ship and roll off the sled, as the drop-off into the lake means you don’t have room to just dig your heels into the ground. Well, actually you do, but you have to stop almost halfway up the hill, making the ride feel like it ended prematurely, so that isn’t an option to the little girl. But if you try to stop too late, you risk going right over the edge. So she has to figure out the exact last possible second to jump off as she moves at a breakneck speed, and she finds the element of danger that comes with almost falling into a frozen lake only adds to the exhilaration. She finally makes her way to the top of the hill and readies the sled. She is shivering with anticipation and the cold. She sits on the sled and digs her heels into the ground, ready to push off. ‘Three… two… ON-’ before she can finish her internal countdown, she suddenly hears her grandma’s voice calling for her to come inside. Her disappointment is evident as she gets up and drags her sled behind her, but perks up slightly when she realizes that she probably has a cup of hot chocolate waiting for her. “It’s okay,” she thinks, “I can sled some more later, I have time”.

 The snow has melted and the world is starting to grow again. The little girl is regaling the story of how she lost her first tooth at school to her grandma. She is doing her best to help with cooking dinner, but there is only so much she’s allowed to do. She isn’t allowed near knives, so she can’t peel the potatoes. She can’t work the stove, and her father won’t let her anywhere near the grill. Realizing she can’t do anything to help, she makes her way from the kitchen to the living room to see if her grandpa will play a game of UNO with her before dinner. She can hear her grandma call from the kitchen that everything is ready. Her grandpa promises to play with her when they are done eating. “Okay,” thinks the little girl, “We’ll have time later.”

 School is finally out, which means the little girl gets to go to her grandparents’ house much more often. Her grandma has sent her outside with her grandpa to pick blueberries for her pie and she keeps getting sidetracked. There is at least one of every fruit tree and berry bush she could ever imagine and she can’t help but ask her grandpa about every one of them. He was always the one to indulge in the little girl’s curiosities. He always seemed to know everything, and when he didn’t they would always find the answer together. She wanted to be just like him.

 The little girl is now being lifted by her grandpa so she can reach an apple on one of the higher branches. And as she is being lifted, her grandpa is regaling a story about when he was her age. It’s a story she’s heard a million times, about the time her grandpa’s brother somehow caught a fish in the eye, and his mother sewed up an eyepatch right then and there. Years later, while he was reading the newspaper, her grandpa read a story about a giant fish with an eyepatch on the coast, dragging people into the ocean, and laughing while he did it. It is the little girl’s favorite story, and while she knows they are supposed to be collecting blueberries for grandma, she thinks, “We’re okay. I can listen to it one more time.”

 The little girl is sitting on the hill, a decade later. She’s thinking about this hill on this lake, about all the memories she’s had here. She’s thinking back to a time when she could play for as long as she wanted, and she could ask a million questions without feeling like a bother. When her grandpa would tell her stories and sing her songs that she’s heard million times but ‘just one more time Grandpa!’ When grandma would listen to her talk even though she was cooking dinner for at least six people. When being here gave her a warm feeling in her chest even in the dead of winter. When she could jump into her grandpa’s arms and trust he would catch her. And now, even though these memories give her happiness, they take her to a place she hates, because she knows she can never really go back. And that fills her with so much sadness. So the little girl — now a young woman — lays down onto the soft grass and thinks, “God, where did the time go?”