I Remember “The Woods”
I remember the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind, the smell of the ground freshly moisten from rain; playing outsides everyday of the springs that melted into summers and summers that cooled into fall.
I remember a place where the imagination is stirred; where you could be whatever came to mind; where one day you were the cook of the tribe and the next the chief.
I remembered attempting to build a treehouse, mowing the lawn and raking the leaves in exchange for wood; finding that it was more fun building it and never actually using it.
I remember the swamp at the very back; the one that we were not suppose to go by, but did anyway; where we would ice skate on top of once winter came, and occasionally fell through.
I remember looking out one day, sometime after my fellow spy moved away, and realizing that the magic which inhabited those sacred woods was no longer there; that all it is is a lot full of trees and overgrown weeds, empty.