My Meadow

“Furthermore, Poe was an amazing author in the matter that he…” my mind trailed off from the biographical video featuring Edgar Allen Poe, and settled on a place that only my imagination could take me.

With my eyes set on the clear window to my right, I let my mind wander. I traveled from the boring lecture, out of my small town in Connecticut, away from the bitter reminders of my mothers death, and soared into the small meadow I had created. Only I knew of it, and only I could create memories in it. My Meadow was the one place I couldn’t be hurt, or reminded of lifes struggles. It was the one place in the entire world I could feel safe.

If only it were real.

From the small bridge crossing over the quaint, but beautiful river, to small trees and plants placed around rhythmically, I could always feel at peace. The entirety of my meadow was serene and gorgeous. Every time I visited, no matter how rare the chance may be, fall seems to be the only season that my meadow has ever seen. The trees are always a wonderful shade of red, yet none fall from their homes. The small plants placed around the river, are hit by the suns rays in such a particulate way, that each defined their own beauty. Some orange, some yellow, and some even red. Even when the fall doesn’t affect their nature, the sun affects their beauty, making them even more magnificent than I could ever imagine possible.

The beauty that surrounded me, made bitter reminders or reailty fade away into nothingness. When I was in my meadow I never ever had to think about my mothers death. Here, I can pretend that she’s still alive; waiting for me to come home and hug me again. Here, I can make myself believe that my father isn’t the monster that he is. Here, I can pretend that everything is as it was a year ago.

Because nothing ever changes in my meadow.

I can walk across this wonderful bridge a million times and never get tired. I can swim in the warm river for hours and never want to get out. I could sit under the small oak tree in the middle of it all, and think. I can think whatever I want, write whatever I feel, and feel as if everything is alright! In my meadow, my bruises fade away. My heart no longer aches. My eyes no longer burn from tears that I don't want to cry. In my meadow, everything is okay.

Why would I choose a season full of death for a place so full of serenity? Why choose a season when everything falls apart? Why not? Fall is not where everything dies, it’s the beginning. If not for Fall then spring would not exist. Without fall, there would be no new beginnings. I chose fall for my safe haven because fall is a time of beauty, a time of happiness, and a time for new beginnings. Yes, when fall comes round, the leaves fall to the ground and die a slow death, but before they do, they go through a beautiful metamorphosis that transforms an entire world into something magical!

I could have chosen a Winter Wonderland for my meadow, but I would not be free to do whatever I so chose! The river would be trapped under a thick shield of ice; hiding a thing of beauty beneath a thing of sure death. I could have chosen anything to create my Meadow in…but fall was simply the only way to bring beauty to life.

I can sit on my bridge, stare into the water of the river beneath me, and see everything. My meadow is my creation, my beauty, and my safety.

I love it here, and nothing will ever take it away.

“August? August!” A friends voice slowly brings me from my wonderful reverie, “Day dreaming again?” she questions me, with a soft smile.

“Of course not.” I reply, “Simply thinking.” Because I was.

“You should start paying attention in class.”

“Sure.” Never