sketches of a bipolar girl: Simpler Times

When I was 5 years old, we moved into my grand parents' house. They were my mom's parents. It was a big deal because to us they lived in the country. There were big fields of grass, creeks (also known as cricks) and wildflowers. We had come from the city. In the city, you were lucky to have a small patch of grass in front of your house. I remember eating the wild berries, drinking the nectar from the honeysuckle bushes. I went down the big hill in back of the house and played among the trees, rocks, and in the water. I would take my Barbie dolls down there and play search and rescue with my cousin's GI Joe. I made many complicated desserts with tin pie plates. My favorite pie was the chocolate cream. I could anything with dirt. It didn't taste like dirt, to a small child, dirt came in different flavors according to color. Since Grandmom was a gardener, we had bags of potting and garden dirt. I don't know why this memory came to me today. Maybe it's because of today's shooting in Virginia. I long for peace and innocence. Days of carefree playing in the yard are long since passed. Today, we all walk around slightly paranoid and looking over our shoulders. It's kind of sad really. I miss those days. I think I will take an afternoon nap and let my mind walk in the woods, taking in all the smells and sounds that only nature can provide. Hopefully, it will rain again today, washing the world clean of the horrors of the day. I wish you all the best things in life.