Sprinting through the house, the walls turn into a swirling collage of flashing colors and shapes. All the boy can hear is his heartbeat, the footsteps of the pursuer behind him, and the overbearing static coming from the television. He darts back and forth, frantically trying to evade his big brother, doing all that he can to avoid being “it.” He finally spots his point of escape, the open doorway to the outside.Once outdoors he knows he can run through the woods and find refuge. He thinks of his favorite place, the fallen down walnut tree next to the stream. The tree fell down several years ago and one of its great limbs proved powerful enough to change the brook’s path. The base of the tree rests where the river previously ran, creating a natural grotto which the boy loved to play in. The new bend in the stream, caused by the old massive branch allowed the water to reach the sharp rocks previously out of reach from the water’s engulfing grasp. Time has not yet done its work on these stones, unlike the smooth flat stones that the boy’s mattress possesses. Under the base of the tree, in the back of the cave, sheltered from the wind and rain lay this natural resting place. Time and nature worked in perfect harmony to create this bed for the boy, with every rock in the right position, smoothed down through the ages to create a quality platform; dry, safe, and comfortable. The gentle cascading water flowing over the new rough stones create just enough noise to drown out the racket of the world around. From his spot in the cave, civilized society is gone, out of earshot, out of sight, out of mind. The rest of the world swirls away in the mini whirlpools of the water; everything is gone in this moment. There is only the creek with its hypnotic water, and the boy sleeping on his smooth stone bed.As he begins his short journey to the doorway and the eventual vast openness of the natural outside world his trip comes to a sudden and unanticipated stop. A loud “thunk” emanates from the sliding glass door as the older sibling hysterically cracks up in laughter. Johnny’s great adventure into the wilderness, the chance to run free, to become completely content is suddenly thwarted by this impenetrable, invisible, and massively manufactured opponent. Still looking out at his awaiting utopia in the woods he falls backwards, television still buzzing, big brother still laughing. Paralyzed by his ignorance the elder brother can do nothing but laugh, Johnny can do nothing but think about going to his cove; the one place he knows where all is clear and everything is as it should. Even as an innocent child his presence at the stream feels somehow wrong, he is limited to an outside observer; he knows that man should not disturb such a place.
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It’s nice inside one’s happy place