Home

Leaves rustle and whisper in the breeze, telling secrets that no one else will ever hear. Posing against the bright blue sky, wisps of clouds form hats over the treetops. Grasses bend as short gusts of wind get pulled through the sky. The silhouette of an abandoned barn is clear against the cotton ball sky. The barn’s rotting wood is slowly being pulled down by the ivy that has already taken over half of the barn. Sloping hills stumble and trip toward the horizon. I came across this forsaken, peaceful scene long ago. I believe that I am the only person that comes here now though once it was probably bustling with activity. Sometimes I sit on a stump or a boulder and watch.

I see many different things here: geese in their Vs, robins building their nests, and trees that change colors in the blink of an eye. Sometimes I sleep, smelling the sweet grass in my dreams. I wake up stiff and sore but always more rested than if I were sleeping in a feather bed. Today is not the same. I shiver, wrapping my thick coat around me. I look around at the place I have seen so many times, knowing that I would never see it again. If anyone were there, they would see pearly tears slip down my face. Finally I turn away and trudge onward, trying not to look back, trying to resist the urge to run to the place that I had always thought of as home.