It had been quite some time since he or his family had been to Treegap. Of course, the conception of time can differ. It had hardly seemed like long to him at all, but when you live forever, time goes by in a blur. The only memory he had that still remained clear was from the summer nearly seventy years ago. Still, time had left its mark on the town if not on him.

Buildings had changed, and the people too. Everyone he remembered had died, moved away or reached an age where their memories began to dim. No one would recognize him or wonder at his still being the same as he was all those years ago.

Stuffing his hands deep in his pockets, Jesse walked down the recently paved road in the direction of the wood and the house Winnie had lived in. After walking for a time, Jesse wondered idly if he had gone the wrong direction, for he could see no wood. Passing a landmark he did recognize, Jesse stopped. The wood should be right in front of him. But, it wasn't. It was utterly and completely gone. Sometime in those seventy years he had been away, they had torn the whole wood down. And in the process they must have destroyed the spring. His family didn't have to worry about the secret getting out anymore, at least.

The cottage was gone too. He walked straight past where it used to be without realizing. Now he was just walking aimlessly. He could not guess where Winnie would be. Perhaps she had moved out of town.

He did not see the frog that was basking in the middle of his path, until it was too late. Jesse grimaced and looked down, expecting to see a dead and squished frog. Instead, the frog looked up at him with bored eyes and let out a reproachful croak. Jesse bent down curiously. He prodded the frog with a finger gently. The frog huffed indignantly. Jesse laughed and stood again. He began walking again, this time careful to step over the frog. When he finally looked up at where he was, he found himself standing right outside the cemetery.

His steps slowed and he came to a complete stop right at the iron gate. As he peered through the bars, he knew that he would find Winnie inside. Winnie had been always changing, full of life, ready to take risks. Eternity, like he had, was not a life she could have stood. Not only was it endless, but also unchanging. Sure, the world changed around him, but he never did. In a world dominated by change, he and his family were the only constants.

That was why he hadn't wanted her to drink the water yet. She was too young to understand what it meant. Too young to understand how living forever was much more a curse than a blessing. Still, he selfishly had thought and hoped that she would have drunk the water, if only for him.

He was still standing outside the gate, peering through the bars. Slowly his hand reached up and hovered over the gate. With a long, drawn-out sigh he firmly placed his hand on the gate and pushed it open.

Treading softly, he passed many unfamiliar names. It wasn't until he glanced to the left that he spotted the name. Foster.

With hesitant steps he advanced and looked at the smaller names. It did not take him long to find hers.

In Loving Memory,
Winifred Foster Jackson
Dear Wife
Dear Mother
1870-1948

Kneeling down at the spot, Jesse ran his hand lightly over the words.

"Oh, Winnie," he whispered bowing his head, "if only you'd been a bit older. We could have had forever."