– fifteen -
“I’ll let you drag me to hell if it means you’ll hold my hand.”
There’s this field behind my house, looks like it goes on for miles and miles. Covered in lush green that reaches to my scuffed up kneecaps and filled entirely with daisies. It is my most favorite place in the world. Mama yells at me for getting all dirty, Daddy yells at me for wasting the day away, but I don’t care. It is my most favorite place to be. I lay down in that field, watching the butterflies dance above me, the heat of the summer sun beating down over my skin. It’s so warm and quiet. So peaceful.
It is my special place. The place that I go to be me. Where my thoughts are my own, my dreams are real and my hopes seem true. The birds singing their pretty songs as they soar over me, my laughter ringing out from the tickles of the long grass as it blows against my skin in the light summer breeze. It’s where I lived to be, where I truly felt a sense of calmness. Where no matter what someone was forcing me to do, here, I was my own person. I mattered.
I can feel the warmth radiating through my skin, breathing in the clean fragrant air and letting it gently fill my lungs. I can hear the bees buzzing around me as they stop to visit the flowers that surround my sprawled out body. I can see the billowy white clouds forming familiar shapes as they float seamlessly through the bright blue Alabama sky.
I can feel it. I can really feel it. I am here.
There’s this field behind my house. It was my most favorite place in the world. It was where I felt free. Alive. Safe.