Out past the far-reaching branches of the scraggly oak tree, the soft grass tapers off to a small path and rises up between two beds filled with juniper and scented blossoms. The earth begins to flatten out once more where the bright green maple connects with the old fir tree up above your head. The effect is dappled sunlight, filtered by nature and cooled in the shade of the leaves. This is the place where the grass grows long and lush. If you were to sit down a small distance from this spot, you would find yourself under the maple tree, with its lovely chartreuse bark. The saplings decorate the mossy soil with small smatterings of lacey green. This is where the path broadens once more, and slopes down into the wide drainage ditch, which the city owns a twenty-five foot easement of. But under the tree, you would still be in my property. Under that tree, you can lie for hours in the small space where the ground dips, and feel like you are hidden from the rest of the little world, just because of the tiniest rise. It is in this spot where you are hidden from the occupants of the house, and the cars passing on the street. The neighbors across the ditch might see you pondering, but they’re hardly ever home to begin with, and it isn’t like they would give a second thought to you anyways. In this place, under the tree, you can gaze to your right and see large, heavy clusters of deep purple flowers. The flowers making up the blooms have only four petals, and are probably no larger than the pad of your little finger. If you press your cheek to the earth and close your eyes, the heady scent of fresh grass invades your senses. Breathe slowly. This is a scent to divulge. With your eyes closed, you can feel the heat of the sun, which falls thicker here without the condensing fir tree. You won’t feel too warm, though. The light breeze which is perpetually enjoyed in my neighborhood will keep you comfortable.

This is a place where you can unwind. It is a spot filled with memories. I have enjoyed this little corner of earth where I spent time with a very close friend, and I have mourned her departure under the same tree. It is a place where I flee to when I need a moments rest. It is where I can retrieve my lost breath when it seems like my life has spun out beyond my control. It is my haven of solace, where I have laughed, loved, and cried in a single day. Under the tree, there is peace. Tranquility is present that I cannot find elsewhere.

I do not know if, when you sit by yourself in the tall, clipped grass, you will feel a shadow of loss, or my spirit of hope. I do not know if you will enjoy my corner as I have, or if you will feel compelled to return to it after a brief moment that, in my mind, will have lasted just short of a perfect eternity. I do not know if you will recognize my presence at the opening of the path, but I hope that your own corner finds you, and that you can find comfort at its coordinates.