Present Day 

Ella digs furiously through a smooth shiny suitcase, rummaging through tie-dye t-shirts, cotton white socks, and newly-ironed tank tops. She groans as she reaches the bottom of her suitcase. 

“Hey, do you need help?” you ask, leaning against the wall. 

“It’s fine Dad,” Ella replies, tucking a strand of sweaty brown hair behind her ear. 

“Alright.” You grunt before wandering out the back door. You sigh and sit down on the steps. In front of you, a lemon tree stands. 

Its gnarled wooden branches shrivel under the sun like skeletons, reaching for life. Orange leaves cling to its brown arms, barely. They tremble in the wind, dropping onto the parched earth below. Bark hangs in tatters. Devastated with sickly brown, rotten lemons lay on the ground, so old and sour that not even flies swarm around it. The flesh sags and oozes. It reeks of fermentation. Mold stretches across the surface like a spiderweb as it devours the surviving yellow. 

You look closer. There’s a heart carved into the bark, right in the center of the tree… ~~~~~ 

July 26, 1998 (Ella is 7) 

Sunshine pours through emerald leaves coated with flourishing golden lemons. You hunch underneath the shade, sloshing viscous BBQ sauce from a plastic jar onto hunks of smoky meat. 

Taking a bite from a rib, Ella smiles and lounges down on a lawn chair, licking her sticky fingers. She giggles. 

“Which lemon should we pick today?” you ask. 

“That one!” 

You reach on your toes and snap the lemon Ella eagerly points at. Of course, it’s from the highest branch possible - she loves to make life hard for you. 

You slice the fruit, citrus spraying. Drop it into the lemonade pitcher. Watch as it bobs. Floating like little yellow boats, the lemon wedges bounce against each other. 

Pouring lemonade into a small glass cup, you watch the liquid swirl like a miniature whirlpool. You slurp a sip, ice cubes bumping against your lips. Tart acid, sweet sugar, and little packs of sour pulp punch your tongue.

“Perfect,” you sigh. “Do you want some?” 

Ella jumps from her seat, grabs the cup, and guzzles the ice-cold drink. Her fingers, coated with remnants of barbecue sauce, leave tiny bronze-coloured imprints against the glass. 

You check on the next batch of ribs, grease and fat sizzling as it drizzles onto the flaming coals below. Grabbing a wet towel, you wipe it across your hair, savouring the cool dribble of water running down your neck. 

Suddenly, Ella taps your shoulder. 

“Look Dad! Look what I wrote!” 

A freshly carved “Thank u!” sits on the tree bark. She looks back at you, a dull pebble in her hand. You smile, grabbing Ella’s rock before adding a loopy heart. 

~~~~~ 

April 9, 2007 (Ella is 16) 

Dew drops lay on blades of grass, glowing like diamonds from the sparkling stars above. Ella slumps on the porch stairs with you. 

“How were your exams?” You stare at the dazzling night sky. 

“I think I did fine. But I won't get my scores back until the twenty-third.” She pauses. “I was thinking about college… in the city.” 

You blink. Scratch your beard-shrouded chin. “Umm, sure… Which colleges?” 

“I was thinking maybe Evergreen or Crestwood,” she says. “I could get a job later in the city. Send some money home. So you won’t have to work on the farm too much.” 

You scooch over to her and reach out for a bear hug. 

She raises her arms and returns your embrace. 

“Okay, Ella.” 

~~~~~ 

Present Day 

“Hey Dad! I’m ready to go!” Ella hollers.

You quietly shuffle back into the house and follow Ella’s voice towards the front porch. She beams at you, excitement radiating from her face. You return a weak half-smile, keeping in the tears that prickle your eyes and cloud your vision. 

Ella embraces you, her arms tightening around your back. You pat her head, a lemon-embroidered cap snugly sitting on her combed hair. 

Ella steps towards her car, a key looped around her finger, two suitcases dragging behind her. She opens the trunk. Drops the luggage in. Shuts the trunk. Sits down in the driver’s seat. Starts the engine. Waving at her, you refuse to cry. She waves back and drives away. Dust and dirt float in the air like brown mist behind the dark tires. 

She’s gone.