My Place

Of all of the places, in all of the world, I would like to take you to a field. It is a place that completes me. As a child I ran and grew with the wild milk weed at my side. Heated by the sun, and warm with love; This breathless landscape was sown together with morning glories; black eyed Suzie’s and Queen Ann’s lace.

            The beautiful smells of strawberries, blackberries and raspberries would tickle at my belly. The sounds of the poplar trees flirting with the wind would make me feel safe. Everything was always okay as long as their leaves sang gently into my ears. Over their whispers I could hear the buzz of locus and the soft “who” of the morning doves searching for love.

            Depending on the flowers, which were in bloom, I knew if the summer was slipping from my fingers and falling asleep in the autumn breeze. When the mustard plants grew tall and milk weed bloomed like little corn husks, the fire flies disperse, I begin to sadden. Then at that moment, more than ever, I would urn for the smell of apple blossoms and lilacs. Returning my thoughts of spring. They encircle this perfect spot like a picture frame, holding my memories for eternity. These amazing trees strong and tall, bared the fruits that filled my creativity.

            It is amazing how a square of weeds can raise a child up to respect life and to love unconditionally. Such a cherished place shall never go to waste. I now as an adult with my family live here. I built my dream where it all began. I will now and forever grow with the ever changing seasons. My family and I will blossom with the spring and sleep with the fall, making jam with its berries and pies with its apples. We will feed our hearts and souls until one day, at Gods call, we return to its rich soil.