I’ve been here before. This road with it’s cracks and grass growing wherever it can find purchase is familiar. I have seen that tree before. It doesn’t quite grow straight and tall. It appears to hunker down as if afraid to show it’s maturity, afraid to draw too much attention to itself. I know the feeling.
The air feels the same: smells the same. A warm breeze passes through the leaves. It’s gentle, but constant. It carries a slight, salty fragrance. It smells like home, like what comfort smells like. The wind caresses the leaves, the trees. It slightly buffs the world wanting to show its affection, but not wanting to overwhelm the world’s senses. I know the feeling.
A shining sun that warms with its rays: causes the world to light up showing off it’s colors. Greens, blues, browns, yellows. The sun lights surfaces, casts shadows. It awakens the landscape. All radiate- fighting for attention. Seeking appreciation, seeking acceptance. I know the feeling.
I remember you here. You listened with me to the rustling leaves. You smiled wide, eyes closed as you pointed your face toward the sky feeling the suns warmth. You breathed deeply, enjoying the scented breeze. It’s soothing caress. You looked content, happy. You didn’t want the moment of peacefulness found here to ever change, didn’t want it to end. I know the feeling.