When my first hamster Vincent died I asked dad if we could bury him under the tree. Dad said no. My brother and I dug a hole anyway. We took one of my teddy bears and pretended it was Vincent’s dead body. We put the teddy bear in the tiny open grave that afternoon and climbed the tree. As we got higher and higher, we were pulled lower and lower. The branches got younger and younger under the weight of our age, closer and closer to the teddy we pretended was once aging, just like us.