HEATHERLAND

We are so lucky to have beautiful weeping willow trees in our yard. It’s five manicured acres of play heaven that surrounds the big white house. But there is one special favorite. She is down the path and over the bridge. First thing you have to do when running over the bridge, is to bend over the rail and and yell “hi fishies” to the fishies. Run off the bridge, take a left, follow the creek. The Best Tree is with two other youngers ones, so she stands taller. I focus on her, but I still glance over to my left at the creek making all the pretty sounds. I wish my arm was long enough like my Stretch Armstrong doll to reach out and drag it through the stream. My little brother tags along just a step behind, only because his legs are shorter. “Hurry up, hurry up! Time to get a CAR WASH!“

Then we sprint. Fast as we can go, until it hurts your chest and makes your legs pump like a heart. Little D and I run through the leaves and they tickle and brush us and maybe even hurt here and there, but just the tiniest ouch on your cheeks and on your forehead and chin. Eyes are closed shut tight so you don’t get poked. Our arms are out like an airplane and it smells inside our secret fort like the color green.

You have to laughscream while keeping your mouth closed so you don’t eat a leaf. When you leave the car wash, you open your eyes and you are still laughing. Then you just fall to the grown and you squeal and just giggle so hard til your tummy hurts. ”And then you jump up. “Again! Again! Again!”

It must be so hard for mom to call us into the house for dinner. We are very so far away. 

How blessed we are…I hope we will aways remember that, even when we get old. Like…55.

If I scooch all the way to the edge, my whole feet are under water. I hear the light splashes but not much else. I make little circles and swirls and I feel ten again. Trees of all the colors of green, beige and brown surround me as they rustle. The pond is so round. Almost too perfect. Little birds talk to each other here and there, but I can’t make out what they are saying.

I look down to my my left hand flat next to me against the worn cinnamon and chestnut wood. It’s pink with sun but it doesn’t hurt, yet. A fish kissed the surface but he was gone before I could turn fast enough to say hi.

I love the solace. I feel warm and happy to be surrounded by water. But I also feel so under the water of being there alone. All the way at the bottom.

I hope a fisherman will come and sit with me. I’d love to chat or just sit quiet while he catches and releases.

Maybe he could help me understand the birds.