Saturday, April 2, 2016

A Special Moment in Time


Everyone has that one memory of a place where your mind wanders to when you feel down.
From the most breathtaking scenes to the simplest dreams we all think of that place when we close our eyes.

Here is my memory:

As I biked up the last path, I stood up to see the tips of the swaying willow trees.
I heard my breath as all the sounds dimmed out just like the sea after the high tides so the sounds swiftly drew back. I pulled into the drive smiling at the three dancing willows who wore flowing green gowns that gently swept the earth as the wind kept singing its song. The trees soared towards the sky, and the bark was a white masterpiece painted by Mother Nature herself. My foot steps slowed down as I approached the garage door. I stood up on the tip of my toes reaching up to the lock. The lock unhitched and the door opened with the sweet sound of creaking wood. I parked my mountain bike next to the table that once stood proud in the sun.

 A slant lead down into the moss filled grass. I took my shoes off, gently stepping on the recently exposed green fur. The soft grass tickled my feet as I stretched them across it. I took a deep breath in, filling my lungs with the fresh smell of trees, earth and grass. I walked down the garden hills brushing my feet along the ground. The cherry tree blushed behind its white shawl. This was my favorite tree of all. The branches were so wide and firm, it could hold an entire person. My eyes scanned the bottom of the tree. It was as though a rainbow fell from the sky covering the entire ground in bright colors. The soft purple flowers, next to the cloudy white daisies broken by the tall smooth tulips. The bright red ones as well as the dark ones stood proud next to each other. The dark tulips, so mysteries and beautiful as though they had stollen their shade from the night sky itself. 

A bit farther up the hill was one out of the three enchanting apple trees. This one with its long spiky branches reaching for the sky. Only in fall will it let its heavy arms down because of the emerald green apples. Next to it is a path up to the brick house. The beautiful bushes untrimmed  overflow onto the stone pathway that slithers its way up to the house. In the middle are two trees in line protecting the small bush in between them. The plum tree with one branch low enough to brush the top of my head were filled with beautiful little purple fruits. A sister to the tree stood at the bottom with amber like plums hanging from its arms.

 I closed my eyes and put my head down on the green blanket letting it all sink in. The sweet sound of every farm bird filled my ears. The colorful chirping was as though they all sang my favorite song. A song where the wind gently brushes through the grass and trees. The soft breeze blowing back my hair revealing a wonderful world. A world so big yet only a small backyard, in a small town, in a small country that's just part of one little planet in the universe. I opened my eyes again afraid a had missed my favorite note in this never ending song. 

My eyes darted past the greenery to the one tree dressed in its green leaves. Soon after the heat passes the tree will put on its best accessory, apples. Apples so red that it may seem it was dipped in blood that soaks all the way into the core leaving nothing white. The sound of sinking your front teeth deep into a fresh apple and the juice covering your tung made me wish it was autumn again. But then I realized that spring had only just begun. 

I climbed the cherry tree. Holding onto one branch as I put my foot up to the next. The bark under my feet crunched gently embracing every step I took. At the top I looked out. The small cycle route curved its way in front of the farm covered in long beautiful grass. The grass was an ocean creating tides that pulled your eyes into to them as though it was hypnotizing you. The sky above me was a bright but soft blue from the Hollywood movies. It was covered in white cotton balls that floated along like fish in a pond. In the far distance a moo was let out by the cow on the farm. I grabbed onto the branch feeling the crumbly and earthy texture.

I sat out there for hours. The silence was so loud and magnificent that it entranced me. Until I heard a distant voice calling from inside the yellow bricked little house. The house with an overgrown garden. The house where I have my own little universe. The house I call home.