I sit quietly in the woods, my back leaning up against the rough bark of the cottonwood tree. I can feel each groove and track running through the bark. Underneath me I can feel the planks of the the wooden platform I sit on. There is a breeze stirring through the barren branches of the forest around me. The rope suspended thirty feet in the air by a steel wire sways back and forth as if pushed by an invisible hand. The rope seems to call to me, begging me to swing on it once again as I did when I was a child. The trees stand in a circle like silent sentinels, guarding the childhood innocence that once prospered there. The ancient hay haphazardly piled under the rope serves as a reminder of the many scrapes and bruises earned on the hard ground beneath the swing
As I sit, I see a golden leaf tumbling gently to the ground reminding me that seasons come and go just like friendships. One moment they can be warm and full of sunshine and then, seemingly out of nowhere, become dark and cold. All remnants of the warmth are buried beneath a cold layer of resentment, only to then spring up again with the passing of time! Regaining some of the warmth that was once plentiful and all will become warm again.
As I see this leaf, I think back to the many wonderful and sometimes even painful memories that I have of this spot. I can still see clearly the moment when I first discovered this magical place. I was seven years old running through the woods behind...
