I Long For The Forest.

When I used to get down, I would climb up. I would wipe away my tears and run to the park and scale the tallest tree I could find. This one pine was my favorite. He was my best friend. Each branch was placed perfectly so I could climb higher and higher until I found the tip of his finger that touched the sky. And there I would sit, observing the cars passing by.

No one else's opinion mattered but his. He accepted me in his embrace no matter how many knots were in my hair or how many sap stains were on the back of my pants. He liked my bare feet and torn t-shirts. And he enjoyed afternoons of watching me eat food out of my lunchbox. I was at liberty to be myself with him. No pretend smiles or curtesy laughs. Ugly cries and joyful hollers welcome.

Me and my friends.

I miss him.

And I miss that me.