Tree of Hearts

Burgundy and violet were the two colors of my wife’s hair. She was a creative artistic woman that I’d had the pleasure of loving and spending 5 years with. If I concentrate hard enough while closing my eyes, I can still hear her laugh. Loud and boisterous you could hear it from anywhere in the house. No one had a laugh like my wife, no one. It was hers and hers alone. If you heard it, you knew it was hers instantly.

There was always the hope for more time, the romantic notion that we could save our dying Earth. We tried; we really tried but there was nothing more we could do. The earth had been dying since before I was born. Greed and destruction through the centuries caused a hemorrhage in the core that could not be repaired. My wife and I did our part like everyone else. We saved rainwater, lived a vegan lifestyle, and grew a garden on the side of the yard. It still wasn’t enough, and there was nothing we could do but wait.

In the third year of our marriage, the wait was over. The last living wild animal had died. The news broke early morning as I was sitting on the edge of our bed waiting for the hot water to be available. The early morning was the only time anyone could use it, and as I sat there staring at a growing crack on the wall in front of me, I heard it. The breaking news announcement came in loud and clear from the radio in the kitchen. Poe, an African Elephant took her last breath in a dried-up river. My heart hurt knowing that Poe had been desperately looking for water on an Earth that had none to offer.

My wife cried for three days after the news broke about Poe. “We’re next, we’re next in line we’re the only species left,” she said, as her body shook from the tears.

I knew deep down she was right. We were next.

The clock had been ticking, but now we were running out of time at a faster speed. Every day the kitchen radio told us to use less, save more, reuse and preserve. A potato and a zucchini from the garden became breakfast and sometimes dinner. Livestock had been gone for seven years, and the taste of chicken or steak, even an egg was foreign to us. There was nothing left but whatever we could grow.

For my wife’s final birthday and our fifth wedding anniversary, I made her a flower arrangement. She’d planted seedlings all day in the unforgiving sun. Her cheeks and nose were bright red as she hung up her straw sunhat on the hat hook. At first, she didn’t notice them on the kitchen table. She had been heavily focused on cleaning the dirt from her hands and clothing.

“Oh Miles, they’re beautiful.” She said, smiling from ear to ear once she caught sight of them. Her nose buried deep into the bouquet while inhaling the fresh scent of daisies.

She hugged me tightly, I felt so lucky to have her as I buried my nose into the nape of her neck. I kissed her ear and whispered, “Happy anniversary birthday my love.”

I wish I knew then what I know now and held onto her a little longer. I should have slow danced with her until sunrise, and kissed her more, told her I loved her every moment. I didn’t though, and we went to bed a little hungry that night because a lot of the potatoes were drying up. The rain had been scarce, and we’d finally had to begin using our emergency supply of rainwater. None of that mattered though in that moment when we were holding onto each other.

Death tolls continued to rise as more and more of us ran out of resources and supplies. The only season we knew was summer. The human population dropped by thousands daily, and the sun continued to be unforgiving as it shined brighter, destroying what little we had left. It took the only thing I had left, my wife. It took her smile and laugh, her patience and optimism she had when we managed to survive another day on a dying Earth, and most of all her hope and strength.

Desperate for more food to grow we stayed out in the sun longer, in 120-degree heat as we both worked tirelessly to plant a variety of seeds in hopes they’d grow into something edible. She paused from digging and wiped the sweat from her brow. Her entire face bright red as she looked over at me.

“Can you go get us some water please?” She asked while fanning herself with her straw hat.

“Yeah, of course.”

I took my time, enjoying the cooler temperature inside. It was 80-degrees, still warm, but nothing compared to outside. I allowed myself to stand in front of a fan while I filled two glasses for us and added 3 ice cubes each. I would tell her to come in for a while and cool off in front of the fan. I didn’t like how red and exhausted she’d looked out there. It was far too hot to be outside, but we only had enough food for a couple of weeks.

I found her slumped over, it looked unnatural and took me a moment to register what I was looking at. The glasses of water slipped from my hands as I ran across the garden to her. She was extremely hot to the touch, and I carried her lifeless body inside. I didn’t care how much of our precious water I wasted. I set her in the tub and poured our washing water on her, she didn’t wake up or move at all.

“Baby, Nozomi please wake up, please please please!” I begged I cried, I did CPR, and then had no choice but to contact emergency services.

I held her hand the entire time, her skin so red I couldn’t believe she allowed herself to be outside the way she had. She never complained, she never mentioned feeling sick from the sun, she continued to work non-stop without any indication she was overheating. Her last words to me weren’t romantic or anything, she had simply asked for water, I hear her voice in my head still asking for some water that she was never able to drink. My wife, my beautiful, unique, and kind wife died in the dirt, waiting for water. Like Poe the elephant, in the dirt alone searching for water.

The emergency service pronounced her deceased on the scene and expressed their condolences before asking if I wanted help wrapping her. There was no more room in the morgues or the ground. There were only pits now where they put bodies. I couldn’t let them do that to my wife, she wasn’t just a corpse to be discarded into a hole with everyone else. “I’ll bury her here,” I said.

When nightfall came, I was still numb and in shock as I began to dig a grave for my wife. I worked until almost sunrise, blisters and splinters covered my palms, but I did it. I dug the hole, and I cried continuously as I placed her into the hole. My lungs burned, and my rib cage sore from how hard and how long I’d cried that day. I didn’t care about the physical pain, she was gone. She was there not even 24 hours ago and now she was gone forever. I didn’t know if I could make it, what was the point now? I was alone and the Earth was dying. It was only a matter of time till my clock ran out.

Five days after I’d buried my wife, I received a small package in the mailbox. I never got mail, so it was unusual to receive any. I opened it at my kitchen table where the now wilted flowers sat, next to my wife’s still dirty coffee cup. Inside was a golden heart-shaped locket with the words ‘In Memory Of’ engraved onto it. When I opened it up Nozomi’s name was inside along with the year she was born and the year she had died. It was a cruel joke that my wife’s name meant ‘hope’. She always had that hope we would make it somehow. They’d get us all on a spaceship and shoot us out into space to another Earth-like planet where it was safe. I knew that idea was far-fetched, but it was nice to daydream about.

It’s been two years now; I wear the locket every day. There are exactly 789 people left on Earth. I don’t know how I am one of them but I am. Days are numbered, I need to add my wife’s locket to the heart-shaped tree. I need to let her go so I can see her again on the other side. The last holy men said the way to free our loved one’s soul is to tie their locket to the Tree of Hearts, a heart-shaped tree known as, the tree of life.

It’s a rough journey north, I leave behind an empty house, a dry garden, and no other supplies. I never plan to go back as I take my solar-powered moped into the city. It’s not a city anymore, but at some point, in time it was. Now it’s just a concrete jungle chipping away in time. I only travel at night, the air still hot and humid as it hits my face. The moonlight is my only company as I ride past ghost towns filled with vacant homes and dried-out gardens. Signs that read ‘No Water Here’ are posted everywhere. I’m thankful to have a full glass mason jar of water left. It’s all I have besides 4 radishes.

I reach the Tree of Hearts with its deformed trunk that forms a heart, at around noon when the sun is at its highest. From the distance, it looks like it has golden leaves as they glint and glitter in the sunlight. I park my moped and move closer to the sacred tree. As I get closer to it, I realized the glittering gold leaves aren’t leaves at all, but heart-shaped lockets hanging from the branches. They all make a wind chime sound as the wind blows them so gently. “Here we are baby, our final resting place,” I say, and remove the locket from my neck. I give it one last kiss before climbing up into the tree. My shoulders contact a few lockets that are all like my wife’s. I open a few of them and read them, ‘In Memory of, Julia, in memory of Cadence, Darius, Lola.’ The names go on and on there are thousands of lockets in the branches of the tree, so many that I struggle to find an open spot.

I finally do, and carefully hang it amongst the others. Tears build up in my eyes as I channel every memory of her. I play her laugh on a loop, I see her smile as her hair blows in the wind. I see a life where our garden is healthy and thriving, our water well is full, we take long hot baths not lukewarm ones every night, we eat till we’re full, and we consider having children. I see this life so clearly in my mind as the sun beats down on me from above.

“Soon,” I whisper, through my dry cracked lips. My arms spread out wide like a bird, I close my eyes and feel the heat growing more intense by the moment. I feel my body screaming for relief from the rays of the sun, but there is no escaping it now. I see Poe the elephant in a deep pool of water, I see my wife again and I’m home.