There is a place deep in the forest that I call my own. A place that no one else knows about except for me. It's a place where I can escape from everything that is my harsh reality. Schoolwork that I don't understand, people who call me ugly names, my father who just hasn't been the same since she has been gone, and all the memories of my mother that are packed inside that house. I pass over a few fallen tree limbs as I walk. There was a tornado a few years ago, and no one seemed to even give the idea of cleaning up around here a second thought. I cleaned up around my 'special spot', but that is about it. I couldn't do it all on my own, and I wouldn't even think about bringing anyone else out here.  I arrive at the little clearing that has become so familiar to me. There is a small pond that has a few fish in it, and a large Weeping Willow tree that sits right beside it. When I was little I always said I wanted one of those trees in my backyard, and that I would put a bench underneath it and read. I have that now, except I don't have to share it with anyone. I sit down beside the pond, and dip my bare feet into it. The water is cool, and refreshing. I peer over into the water, and find my ripply reflection staring back at me. My eyes don't have the twinkle in them that they used to. My stringy, blonde hair falls in front of my eyes, reminding me that I need to get a haircut. She used to always complain about my hair being in my face, and I would hang my head low, scowling at her from behind my locks.  I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, breathing in the crisp, morning air. Sometimes I can't believe she has only been gone for a year. It seems like so long since I saw her smile. Such a long time since I heard her voice. If only I could just hear her bubbly laugh one more time then I think I would be satisfied. Maybe my dad would, too. Maybe he could move on, and be the father that he used to be. The one who played softball with me in the front yard, and took me to get ice cream on those hot summer days.   I open my eyes again, and stand up. Grass sticks to my wet feet as I walk. Maybe if I told my dad about this place then we could come here together. Maybe it would help him just like it helps me. We could talk about how we feel, and those conversations would stay here, floating in place. We wouldn't have to bring them home. I want to talk about mom so bad. Even though he never took her pictures down and he left all her stuff exactly where it was, he still refuses to talk about her. Maybe I can help him speak whats on his mind by bringing him here. It goes against everything I said about this place, but sometimes people have to make sacrifices for the people they love. I think thats what I'll do. It's worth a try, right?

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Bump!

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Awesome Lydia I loves it

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Thankies!

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Welcomes [he does hope shes gonna write more but he doesnt tell her this xD]

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