I believe in a quiet place to read. Growing up with two sisters is, well, loud. One day I was up in my garden. The only place in the yard that was out of earshot of my little sisters battle cries, as she played with the neighbors. I began to look for a quiet place to sit and read my new book. As I was looking I happened to notice the perfect arch in the little tree in the middle of my garden. 

The lowest branch was about at forehead level, so holding my book in my mouth I grasped the branch and walked up the side of the tree. Being the odd child that I was I never wore shoes. Climbing up a tree barefoot was rather painful, so when I slipped and got a small splinter I opened my mouth in surprise and pain. Then dropped my book. This happened a few times till I got the hang of it and was able to swing my hips over the branch so that I looked like a panther after a kill.

 I sat there for a while looking out over the sea of grass, panting. I looked down and realized with great frustration that I was barely five feet of the ground. For all that effort, I was high but not high enough. I wrapped my arms around the tree and grabbed the next branch I then reached my foot around till I got a firm support on the higher branch and then I swung around gracefully and landed safely on the next branch.

 I sat down feeling very proud of myself and began to read. After a while the sun began to set making it very hard to read so I dropped my book and laid down on the branch. I watched the sun set through the emerald and ruby leaves and heard the birds call out to each other. I sat and wondered what they were saying. Were they warning other birds that this was their territory? Or simply just saying hello? I listened to the sweet silence, the crickets, the owls, and I even heard the quiet croaking of a frog from the river behind my house. I was invisible no living thing knew exactly where I was and I didn’t know where they were, but we were both aware of the other. I sighed and smiled this was truly an amazing moment a hint of a memory. Imagine that your brain is a huge blank room and when you are born the first thing you see is painted on the wall. slowly as you make your way through life the good and unfortunately, bad memories are painted on the wall. The bad memories are painted bigger and they cover up the good ones but nothing no bad or good memory will ever paint over the feeling I had when I sat in my quiet place.