Letting go of the good things.

I was born into the glorious life of the rich and glamorous. My memories are only of what money has given me. Expectations are high; I settle not for the lesser things of this world, for I only want the best of what this world has to offer.
These days are filled with aggressive opposing businesses, sniveling bottom feeders, and the shallow work men of our day. I am sucked into this world. This comes with wealth. I have no rest, for the world of competition keeps me awake at night. The only thing that gives me any comfort is the memories of my childhood in the mansion.
As a child, my parents had no time for me as I was just another expensive item in their way. Every summer I would go to the families mansion up in the Adirondacks, where there was nothing but forest all around. You could hear the forest. It was alive with such beautiful sounds of the living creatures.
A new adventure was awaiting me every morning, because the forest welcomed my little imaginative mind, as did all the things around me. Everything was at my minds disposal. The tree were giants, wanting nothing more then to squish me. The bushes holding the dark creatures of the shadows. The rustle of leaves letting me know when the hidden assassins were coming upon me.
These adventures filled my days with so much happiness, but the one thing my mind always comes back to, is the mansion. My parents were something of French fanatics in their young age. This led to the mansion being remodeled into something of a Rococo style. It was the most breath taking and magical place in the world. I would wonder the halls, never tiring of the lighthearted themes and intricate art that made up the mansion. The library offered hours of reading that I poured myself into.
The rooms were filled with creamy white walls, detailed with golden wisps that captured the eyes. The furniture was small, for I was able to move them around for my fort building pleasures.
Those three months were what I lived for. I loved nothing more than the time I would have in that mansion. I would count the days until I could go back every year. It is what brought a smile to my face and a skip in my step.
But alas, it seems all good things have to come to a end. One day, when school ended for the year, I rushed home expecting to find our butler holding the door of the car open like always. I ran across the gravel to find my father standing in the place of the butler's. It was all a blur as he threw the news of how the mansion was sold for money, just like everything else. Money is what it all comes down to. A blank look came over my face that day, and all that made me happy was ripped away. I was dumped at a boys only school, where I was turned into a business man my father always wanted.
Here I am now. Laying in bed thinking of that mansion which was so special to me. I will never forget that mansion for as long as I live.