Late Afternoon  − September, 1996

The maple trees had been there forever. They jutted from their earthly prison like the claws of some dying creature, and as I lay beneath them with the sun falling in leaf shaped patterns across my face, I knew that they would always be there, tall, strong and benevolent. The clouds hung so heavy and full and, to this little boy, so much like God in that limitless blue sky.

I was eight years old, and I knew my place in this simple world. I was blissful and confident and strong, and likewise ignorant to the years of pain that find us all sooner or later. They were far away from me, and at that moment life was nothing but the scent and feel of the grass beneath me and the sun burning behind my closed eyes. An overwhelming sense of contentment and surety pervaded my young life. Soon the sun would set and I would go back inside, but as it sank sweet and warm into the earth, filling the sky with melted fire, I thought perhaps that wasn't so bad either.

Comments:

peahayes (March 28, 2008. 04:10am)

mmm... that reminds me of laying on the ground in a grassy field looking up at the sky. It was my secret place. I never saw anyone else there. Then they bulldozed it and build a large expensive house. That was the end of my secret place. Skygazing was over for me.