The grass was even lusher this year, and soon it would be as it was when she lived in the island. Climbing this mountain each year and seeing grass took her back- as far as she was concerned, it was the best way to remember. There hadn't been grass on this mountain for a long time- there hadn't been anything on this mountain for a long time. The twentieth century hadn't been kind to Ayiti. But nature was resilient. Whatever humans could through at the island, she could take it. It might take her a while to get back on her feet, but she could do it. The woman ran a scarred, calloused hand through the thin blades. It was rough, crabby grass and