A mile east, past the underbrush and through the trees lies a place within a dense forest

with river-like creek. Bountiful fish feeding upon the endless hoard of mosquitos, as they glide
across the slightly murky water. Branching, reaching over above you as if they were the roof of
the Sistine Chapel painted in golden God rays. In the winter, layers of snow blanket the trees and
ground like frosting on cake. Memories dart across my mind just viewing the photos of what
once was.

My childhood friends (including my little brother) and I would always come to this
almost mystical place. If our mothers were bothering us, if we were stress about school, or if we
just wanted to toss some rocks across the water. One day we actually wanted to go camping but
we wanted an almost permanent campground. We went to this one section of the woods with
relatively flat land and went to work; We cleared dead branches into a pile, removed bushes, and
cleared the leaves to make a bonfire spot. Bonfires where we would have dragged logs as seats
and a fire with rocks surrounding a bright and beautiful crackling fire. Eventually we cleared
trees and created, the best way to describe it, a village. We had teepee like structures, benches,
huts made from clay and logs (It was privately owned land, my friend’s father owned it).

(An example of the structures we made although this was still during the “Construction process”)

Slowly towards the last two years of high school, friends began moving away, pressures
from school pushed us apart. We stopped going, stopped talking, it was sad; although at the time
I did not realize it. The last time I visited this place was the day before coming to UNCC, it was
my birthday august 17th. I sat in my old “hut”, gather some wood from the old now rotten pile of
branches and started a bonfire. Tears poured out of my eyes, I wept because I knew everything
was changing, I would never experience this place during it’s “glory days”. I will never pull logs
with my friends, lie down and just talk about relationships, plans for the future, for they all
moved away and soon I would be too. I can no longer bring myself to go over there, to watch our
structures fall down, our childhood rot away.
Why did we do it?
Of anything it was a way to escape, escape our school, escape our parents, escape our
problems. The noise of cars was as distant as the moon was to humans hundreds of year ago. We
didn’t need to follow any rules or be dictated by anyone else’s iron fist but our own. Many times
we would get into trouble because our parents were worried where we had gone, although we
never told them where it was, never told anyone for that matter. A hidden tribe of middle/early
high school kids filled with memories of great tales and battles.
Why can I not go back?
When I returned to the camp august 17th, huts were slumped and filled with ants, our logs
broken and decayed, mold soured the wood. The dried grass we used for the roofs had fallen off
into piles below. A neglected soul who hopes for restoration but will never receive the
satisfaction. I cannot bare the pain to see everything we worked so long and so hard for return to
the very ground it came from. Although of anything there could be a lesson involved, a difficult
one and one I refuse to believe but a true one none-the-less.
Nothing is permanent, nothing will last forever, the satisfaction is in the moment and the
moment alone. You cannot truly experience what happened before, it will never be the same.
People chase and chase, we constantly go back to the same places, do the same things because
we hope to get that same rush we did in the past. But it will and can never be, you have to
experience the moment and savor it.
Was it actually that amazing?
Even looking back on past memories, they are altered. I attempted to describe the garden
of Eden, something which my forest was not. The forest had trash and was certainly ugly in
many places. But my mind likes to believe it is more than what it actually is, then when visiting
it’s frustrating. This isn’t the place I remember, the setting I created in my mind, the fantasy. I
imagine structures able to hold elephants, and palaces made of stone and mud. But in all honesty,
it wasn’t that amazing, it was crappy little sticks put together, but in my mind it’s a kingdom. A
kingdom in where once I ruled. Funny how the mind plays tricks on you.
Can you put this online?
It is highly personal and still is emotional when thinking about it. But regardless you can
put it up for all to see. It doesn’t bother me.