I think we all have a favorite place in our mind. This place is a meaningful place. Because it is a part of the country, I love. It is part of my family’s legacy. It is the hills of Decatur County, my family always called it the farm. Every year we go up for a quiet weekend to a beautiful place. The cabin, nestled back in the woods overlooking a lake, is something that you would dream about. Takes you back in the woods were their cabin sits a winding trail. The cabin sits on top of a mountain raised up above everything, as if it was sitting on the clouds.
As I began to walk this trail, I began to recollect the days of when I was a kid playing in the woods, the birds chirping and the squirrels running free. The trees interlocking each other as if I am walking through a tunnel with the smell of fresh pine and a hint of oak all around me; a hint of sunshine every now and then is gleaming down on the beat path. This path is not like your ordinary path, no one has walked it for quite some time, as if hundreds of soldiers have marched this very path.
As I walk even farther down the winding trail, I can see the cabin in the distance. It appears as if the sun is only shining on the cabin itself. This exact moment that I forgot about everything else existed and began to wonder, “Am I still on Earth?” I finally arrive at the cabin, in amazement; something this beautiful sits so far back in the woods.
The first thing every morning I love standing out the cracked window at the rising sun over the glassy lake. I love smelling the aroma of coffee coming from the kitchen. My mom and dad used to get up and start breakfast on the old bricked fireplace. We would all sit on the old cozy couch that belonged to my grandmother years ago, eating and planning our day.
