My Favorite Spot

April 28, 2008
By Marlia Douglas, Sayre, PA

I stepped from our cozy house into the blustery outside. Wrapping my jacket tightly around my body, I softly walked across our deck. The wind whipped my hair around my face as I climbed down the icy stairs and stepped my boot onto the hard grass. I heard the grass crunch from underneath my feet as I slowly walked through our backyard. I passed by the sheds my father worked hard to put up. I thought back to the day when he worked through the rain to make a safe haven for his tools and our bikes. I went by those familiar thoughts to where our basketball hoop stood. The half-off net was covered with cold icicles. I still remember the Christmas our parents gave us that present. Then I stumbled upon my brother’s favorite play area. It was his favorite play area anyway. It was the sand box my dad constructed himself. I thought back to when we would play with his toys in the dirt. We’d make huge towns out of the soft sand. Now shrubs overtook the precious area and erased the memories away. I continued to walk down our half-acre large yard.

Finally I made it to the place where I spent many summers. I looked up to the see what had become of my special little forest. I immediately felt like I was in a ghost land as I stepped through the overgrown shrubs. I turned to my right where I faced the tree I used to climb so often. I raced toward the old picnic table that helped me climb it. The old, plastic table creaked as I stepped onto it. I swiftly climbed the familiar tree and perched myself at my favorite sitting spot. The snowy landscape made me feel like I was in the arctic. Memories flashed into my head. My sister and I would climb this very tree with juicy apples in our mouths. We’d get into our places and look out across our yard, as we munched on the apples we brought. The crunchy apples’ juices swirled around in our mouths until we swallowed it with extreme pleasure. My sister would shake the branches of tree which made me feel like I was in the middle of an earthquake. I giggled as I tried to shake the branches just like my strong, big sis. The present day came back to me as I looked out the snowy landscape that now replaced the summery, light one. I slowly climbed back down the young tree and stepped onto the picnic table. Jumping from the yellow and orange table, I raced over to our apple trees, dodging thorns as I went. I touched my hand to the old tree’s rough bark. I still remember the days when we’d come back to collect shiny apples to make pies with. The sounds of woodpeckers hitting wood vibrated through my ears. Then I moved over to my other apple tree, the one I’d spent hours trying to climb. I remembered back to the day that I’d found out one of its huge branches had broken off in the wind. I had carried the heavy branch to the corner of the forest and made a little fort out of it.

After that I went over to the actual forest. One of the trees blocked my way like a hand reaching out across my path. I carefully climbed over its dying limbs. I entered into the desolate little forest, immediately taking notice of the overgrowth. My surroundings made me feel like someone had stopped time completely. Many of the trees had marks of when my neighbors would hit them with an axe. I remember how I’d been so furious to think that someone would want to harm my precious little place. I continued on through the plants and made it to my very first fort. We’d worked hard to make the clearing our own and I’d spent many hours just thinking in this very place. The fort was simply a little place where no plants grew. The trees surrounding it loomed over the clearing like a giant would over a small boy. I slowly reached another forgotten fort. Here we’d piled branches on the edges of the clearing and made seats out of rocks. I sat down on the rock I had claimed so many years before. I missed what I thought of this homely little place. I missed being together with my siblings and working together to make this place our own. I quietly stood back up and trudged the short walk back home.

Soon I was passing by my little brother’s sand box, my broken-down basketball hoop and the sheds we used to often. I stepped back up to the deck and looked back on my yard. This is my favorite spot because I will always remember what was. I will always know that change can be good and because of this place I will always know that I can make my future what I want it to be.

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