WEX #2: Special Spot

Describe a special place you like to go....

Kicked up dirt rises in grainy twirls of smoke as I meander down the old road winding through my grandpa’s farm. The sun hangs low in the sky, setting a golden honey glow across the never-ending cotton fields stretched around me. The cottons white flowers bob in the gentle breeze, creating a rippling ocean of white. The smell of a rain storm is carried to me in the hot air, its smell thick and warm. The humidity wraps around me in heavy blanket, tickling my bare legs and arms. As the sun sinks stars begin to blossom in the black velvet sky. The pecan trees stand in shadow, statues against the sky, like cardboard cutouts, with their groaning branches bending to sweep the ground. Fireflies rise in clouds from the cotton fields, and bob across the ground, weaving in glittering ribbons through the weeds. The sounds of the crickets hum resounds throughout the air, mingling with soft laughter echoing from the nearby farmhouse. Light trickles out from thin lacy curtains shielding its windows and winds betweens the shadows. Lizard’s scamper across the houses rough wooden surface and dart in and out of the various holes and pockets across its worn wood surface, dug by the fingers of time. I can hear the muffled sound of the TV, and the clatter of pots and pans. I wince at the loud noises, contrasting so sharply with nature’s soft music. I continue down the road and rest on the wheel of an old forgotten tractor, standing like a forgotten giant in the middle of the road. Rust colors its surface; its wheels are clothed in thick slippers of dried mud and broken twigs. The soft wind lifts my hair as I skip to the edge of the road, letting myself tumble into the long soft grass laid in a dancing sea before me. The long grasses bend around my body and over me in an open cocoon. The dusky sky sparkles above me, the moon casting a silver light upon the world, the tree tops and fields ivory tipped, flushed gold and silver. My chestnut hair spreads around me, brushing my arms and back in feathery tendrils, and weaving in between the grass. I can’t see anything except the untamed land, no human life, just me, alone in my place. I can feel the ground moving beneath me, the hum of the bugs, the skittering steps of the lizards, roots burrowing beneath me. I can see the rush of loose seeds sail through the air, and flower petals sail above the ground, running with the wind. I watch as they spin across the dirt ground and kiss the tips of the waving grasses before they come to rest beside me, landing with a final twirl before they spiral down to touch the baked earth. The soft pink of their skin glows a misty white in the soft light of the moon, their edges tinged in feathery silver. My eyes flick to the sky in time to see a single shooting star, a burst of white-hot fire, sparking in a spinning wheel, racing to the edge of the earth. I close my eyes tight to hold on to the moment. Right now I am alone, nothing can touch me, nothing can harm me or take this away from me. I am in my special place, and in this moment, it is all mine.