Some days I look out the window through the mixture of trees, onto my backyard. The cool wind, the rustling of the leaves seem to beckon me closer. This way, this way to paradise, they whisper through the rays of sunshine. I cannot contain myself any longer, for I must traverse to my Utopia, my paradise, my special place.
I throw on my boots haphazardly, not wasting any time. The second I set foot outside the door, a wave of tranquility sweeps over me. I run as fast as I can, but only as fast as my body will let me, for my heart is there instantly. By the time I have reached the creek, my feet are sore from running in rain boots, but I can hardly feel it, for I am excited beyond words. Just inhaling the fresh air and hearing the babbling of the brook makes me want to lie down and stare up at the blue Carolina sky. But I don’t yet; I must go to the perfect place where the trees reach over me like a mother hovering over a newborn baby. I must go to a place where the ground is as soft as a cloud and the water as shiny as a new Ferrari. This is the place where I can whisper anything to the woods and they will only listen.
As I lie at that spot, the shadows of the leaves dance around me, creating a greenish hue over everything. The sunlight sparkles around me and all other noises and problems are shut out by the protection of the forest. Nothing can hurt me here. No one can tease me here. It is here that my spirit is free.