I nudge my scrawny, 10-year-old body between two spruce trees, avoiding the prickles and dead twigs protruding from the bottom, and I pause. I see a carpet of green grass, ringed completely by evergreens so thick that it is difficult to see past, and tricky to navigate on foot. I allow the safety of this place, its beauty and quietness, to seep into my tired spirit.
My brother had shown this place to me a few years previous. He called it the "Sea of Tranquility" - named after the same place on the moon - a flat place which was ringed in, protected. I had visited here several times since.
I pad silently into the circle. The summer breeze plays 'in and out the window' between my bare, scabbed knees, war scars from learning to ride a bike. There is just enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes away. The sun soaks heat and restoration into my skin. Here, the only sounds are the distant chirping of a cricket, the buzz of a couple of grasshoppers singing to each other, and the occasional bird chirping from one of the trees. So peaceful. So different.
I lie down on my back, and lift my thoughts above. The clouds are playing slow-motion tag, and I watch the birds swooping to catch flies on the fly, above me. My tense muscles start to unclench. My soul drinks Creation in, like a desert traveler coming upon a natural spring. Yet in the back of my mind I tell myself, "Mustn't stay here long. She'll wonder ... and then I'll be in for it."
The uncut grass blades tickle the backs of my legs. I rub my calves together to take the prickling feeling away. Slowly, the miracle of Nature soothes my thoughts, salves my troubles, and gives me just a little more strength. The mental straitjacket loosens enough for me to catch a breath of the divine. I allow myself to feel the caress of comfort. I am not aware that I have begun to smile until a few minutes later, when I catch myself doing it. I close my eyes.
I hear a dog bark; it jolts me from my reverie. I don't know how long I've been here, but my stomach lurches suddenly in panic. Not because of the dog; I know all the dogs and they like me. Not like her.
I roll over onto one elbow and tuck my knees under me, rocking back onto my feet again. I take one last look around and fill my lungs with freedom, enough to last me until the next time. As I breathe out, my spirit says "Thank You," and my heart is resigned to what awaits me. I tighten the straps around my heart once again, and squeeze past the trees, heading back the way I came.
My brother had shown this place to me a few years previous. He called it the "Sea of Tranquility" - named after the same place on the moon - a flat place which was ringed in, protected. I had visited here several times since.
I pad silently into the circle. The summer breeze plays 'in and out the window' between my bare, scabbed knees, war scars from learning to ride a bike. There is just enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes away. The sun soaks heat and restoration into my skin. Here, the only sounds are the distant chirping of a cricket, the buzz of a couple of grasshoppers singing to each other, and the occasional bird chirping from one of the trees. So peaceful. So different.
The uncut grass blades tickle the backs of my legs. I rub my calves together to take the prickling feeling away. Slowly, the miracle of Nature soothes my thoughts, salves my troubles, and gives me just a little more strength. The mental straitjacket loosens enough for me to catch a breath of the divine. I allow myself to feel the caress of comfort. I am not aware that I have begun to smile until a few minutes later, when I catch myself doing it. I close my eyes.
I hear a dog bark; it jolts me from my reverie. I don't know how long I've been here, but my stomach lurches suddenly in panic. Not because of the dog; I know all the dogs and they like me. Not like her.
I roll over onto one elbow and tuck my knees under me, rocking back onto my feet again. I take one last look around and fill my lungs with freedom, enough to last me until the next time. As I breathe out, my spirit says "Thank You," and my heart is resigned to what awaits me. I tighten the straps around my heart once again, and squeeze past the trees, heading back the way I came.
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