Saturday, November 6, 2010

My Happy Place

We all have a place we go to in our minds when we need to find solace. If you don't then you really should it can do wonders. A place you can image yourself retreating to in secret. Some place where no harm can come to you. A place where everything seems right with the world. That place for me is a swing hanging from the branch of a big tree in a backyard in Georgia. When I was two years old we moved to Marietta, Georgia. There are flashes of memories in my mind before this event but this is when the acknowledgment of my existence truly started. We had a big beautiful yard in the front and back of the house. There were lots of trees and bushes as well as plenty of room for a child to run and play. The backyard was fenced in and had a large hill across the whole of the back of the property. It lead slowly from the back porch up to the top of the ridge where it leveled off for about 20 yards before the back fence. At the top of this hill  in the center was a large maple tree. My dad hung a swing from a nice sturdy branch on this tree for me. The branch was at just the right angle so that the seat of the swing sat parallel with the property line and thus the house and hill the tree sat on. I loved that swing. Over time the ground underneath it wore down so that the top of a large root was visible but not completely uncovered. This could be used as a step to really get some good speed going quickly or as a brake if you were careful. When I sat in my swing all was right with the world. We were a happy family. My parents were not only still together but it was before they began to fight like cats and dogs. It was before all the beatings, of my mother as well as myself. It was while he still gave a damn about us. It was before I learned how harsh life could be. I still had the innocence of a child which is a very under appreciated commodity these days. Whenever I need some cheering up, whenever I feel afraid, confused, or distraught, I think back to my swing. My little piece of perfect in an imperfect world. A little rope swing with a two by four seat, hung from a maple tree on a hill, in a backyard in Georgia. My happy place!

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